So Red your Blood - So Black the Darkness of the Night
by nurzubesuch
Summary: What if Javert's reason to hunt him down were much darker than Valjean ever thought? What if the strict inspector held a secret even worse than a convict on the run? A secret that could mean death for both of them …
1. Temptation

**So Red your Blood – So Black the Darkness of the Night**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of this. Les Miserables belonged to Victor Hugo long before I was born, and the characters used in this story belong to the actors who portrayed them in the 2012 movie, the one and only impression I ever got of this story. May everyone who loved the book or the stage performance forgive me my ignorance. This story is nothing but my personal spin … and even for me it´s far outside my usual perimeter. **

**I still hope you´ll enjoy it. I sure did.**

* * *

><p><strong>Temptation<strong>

It was raining. Water on his skin, making it feel cold and numb and just drained. Weakening him. But he could stand it. He could still do his duty, watching the prisoners, and pretend at least on the outside that the wet element did not effect him at all. Others would not be able to hold up that well. One of the rare occasions when his bastard blood became a blessing for him.

At least the heavy clouds were keeping the sun away.

There might be voices within his family who claimed his mother´s side had made him weaker than the others, but for Javert it was the other half that was to be despised. No. It was his father who´d made him weak. Weak when it rained, like it did now, the strong wind of the ocean spraying the salty liquid towards the land and all over him and the other guards. Weak when the sun was shining down, heavily like it did so often here in France, on hot summer days, or clear days in winter. On such days Javert

would feel a pulsing headache, and pressure behind his forehead as if his brain was getting too voluminous to fit the inside of his skull. On such days he thanked God for the strength his mother had passed on to him. Even if she had been far from being pure and innocent, but at least she had not been that. She´d given him the blood that flowed in his veins, warm and full of life – or so it could have been, if it hadn´t been for his father´s side.

He looked down, to the prisoners, and was more than glad to be up here. If he had to stand _in_ the water like this scum down there, he´d feel much worse. Being drenched in water all over would weaken even him enough to make it dangerous for his health. Thanks God he was a righteous man, not criminal like those. He would have died years ago, considering how long they made them work on fields all day long sometimes in the burning sun. Or deep in water, like he watched it now. A rightful punishment for men that had broken the law. A life threatening torture if you were cursed with dirty blood like he was.

Although, looking at some of those men now, the one or the other didn´t seem very healthy either. The work was hard enough to kill some of them over the years. They were only human after all, no matter how low. All of them. And all of them could die down there, from exhaustion, dropping dead without an outside reason, any time.

All of them, except for one maybe.

Javert was always able to spot him, even in the crowd. There was something strange about the man, something that made him stand out, among those other prisoners. And Javert had no idea why. He was a normal man, nothing more. And yet, he was different. It wasn´t as simple as the strength he had demonstrated on many occasions. Many prisoners developed strength over the years – as if they gained strength from the same work that made others fade away more quickly. If Javert would have believed a human being capable of that, he would have said they traded energy. Or maybe stole the spirit, sucking it from others to survive with it. Just like a vampyre, who would drink the blood of someone, to gain new strength.

But he knew that humans couldn´t do such things. So there had to be another reason why some of them got stronger, while others only sickened more and more, until they died of all their weaknesses. It was a mystery of human nature. And so was this man. At least he was to Javert.

Just as he found him in the line of the prisoners, the man looked up, directly into his eyes as it seemed. And for a moment Javert frowned, suspiciously. But of course that was ridiculous. It was coincidence that their eyes had met. The convict could not have known – or felt – that Javert was looking at him. Humans did not have this kind of intuition. Still, it was a sign of insolence. This gaze. Always so sassy and riotously. A dangerous combination. And somehow this was just as Javert expected it from that man.

He gave him a signal, pointing down with his truncheon. You´re ought to work, prisoner! You´re not to look up.

The man obeyed. For now.

Prisoner 24601. Four escape attempts. 19 years by now. He was in this prison so much longer than Javert himself. As if he was born here. But Javert knew he wasn´t. None of them was. Yet, sometimes it seemed to him as if this was exactly the place where they belonged. As if the jail was their world, another world, existing parallel to that of every other human being.

He felt a stitch of something painful at the thought, and pushed it aside. He wasn´t here to think about the past. Or worlds that might or might not even exist, apart from each other or – even less plausible, side by side, like twins of different natures.

Javert called himself to order, forcing these thoughts away. Focus, he told himself. You´re not here to solve the riddles of the world – or your own soul.

Again the convict looked up, searching for a moment until he found Javert´s gaze again. A dangerous man indeed. Javert felt his heart boil with anger. He´d done his best, with glares and punishment of all kinds, but he had not managed it to get this sassy gaze out of the man. He would still look up, again and again, directly into his eyes, daring him. Again and again. Javert hated this.

Maybe it was a good thing that he left at last. He´d been here way too long. Too long he´d dared Javert to pick him out, to look right back at him, with equality even? Who did he think he was? He was nothing. No one. He didn´t even have a name. He was a number nothing more.

Then why, why did the mere thought of him make Javert so angry? If the man didn´t mean anything, why bother? Why would he waste time, imagining how he could finally teach him respect? And by misusing his powers on top of this? Never, in his life, would Javert do such a thing. No matter how sassy a glance might be. He had no right to punish a man for being sassy. Not as long as he did not commit a crime.

Still, the thoughts were there. And Javert had noticed, not too long ago, that there was a certain regularity to them. And of course he knew, only too well, where it came from.

It was his curse. This demon deep inside of him, hidden from the world but not from him. This demon he was damned to live with, the blood of his father. If he´d had a choice he would have simply denied it, never spoken of it, and condemned it to be gone from him, as if it never was. Back to the gutter where disgusting things like that belonged. Unholy like it was. His entire existence despicable, just because a thing like him was alive in the first place.

It was in those days, when he found himself imagining to go down to the cells at night, to 24601, and take the man down. Tear him apart, like an animal. He believed that he could kill the man, despite his strength. Javert was not weak either, had an advanced strength all of his own. Especially in nights like those, that seemed to boost his energy. He could kill him, yes he could. Maybe even unseen. Unheard. All it would take would be a turn of his hand, a jerk of the man´s head, to snap his neck, tearing into his jugular, to make the blood flow.

But he would never do that. The thought alone was evil and disgusting. The fact that he would have them anyway, that he would have them in the first place, was scaring Javert deeply. Never before had he even entertained the idea of misusing his powers against a prisoner. Or worse. To kill a man to have his blood. To urge the smell, the taste of this warm and thick liquid …

It was repulsing. And it was tempting. It made his blood curl and boil all at once. He mustn´t allow this. He was stronger than this. Stronger than this lust he felt while he consumed. This mixture of intensive want and utter loathing that the thought alone awoke in him, was almost maddening. How could things be that were so controversy? How could he feel so much intensive heat towards a thing that was so fully wrong? For something that every normal and godfearing person would despise just for what it was? An abnormality. A perversity of nature.

A secret he was shamefully born with, before he´d had a chance to fight it. And now the only chance he had to be forgiven such a sin of birth, was by fighting it constantly, in life, against all urges that would drive him towards this darkness. Towards this evil.

Yes, it was good that the prisoner left. The urge to kill him got too much, and soon Javert might have succumbed. No matter how hard he fought it, those thoughts would just keep coming. He watched the man, right now, and yet again, he wanted nothing more than punish him, just for the fact that he´d awoken such primeval needs in him. He was not an animal, that had to kill for his survival. He had no reason, and no right, to kill a man, just for the kick. He fought it … but it was so strong. It was so thrilling, he could barely suppress it any longer.

Yes, 24601 had to leave. Better yesterday than today. Javert had never hungered for another man´s blood and he would not allow this prisoner to change that. The fact that he had awakened that kind of hunger in him made him all the more dangerous.

Javert looked up, at the sky. The rain was getting less, and at the horizon he saw the sun coming out, casting its warm beams of light over the ocean. Time to get down there, before it would get too much up here. It was one of the worst sorts of light, right after a storm it was blinding more than most others, and even Javert couldn´t stand it for long. Better be in the shadows, where it couldn´t reach him. He was already effected enough by the water on his skin. He didn´t need the sun on top of that. Not now that he had to be on his guard. He would have to speak to the prisoner 24601 after all. And who knew how he would react. He might as well try to attack him, and in this case Javert would need all his strength to fend him.

Maybe this thought was the reason for his order, when the convict reached him. Letting him lift a heavy mast like that all on his own, just because he had the power to order him around. It was pure harassment and he knew that. Still he gave the order.

He wasn´t sure, why he did it, and later on if anyone would have asked him, he wouldn´t have known any definitive answer. All he knew was that he wanted it. To make this prisoner feel one last time, that he was in charge, still, and that he had the right to give him orders. To let him feel it, just to remind him, what it felt like to break the law, and what would wait for him, if he should ever fail again.

Never forget this, 24601, Javert thought, and watched stony-faced how this man indeed obeyed his order. Admittance was the farthest from Javert´s mind. But every other prisoner might have refused the task, or broken down right from the start. But not this man. Not insolent one. The rioter. Was it prejudice? Pride? Unwillingness to show weakness in front of him? Javert didn´t know. All he knew was what he saw. A man too strong and too angry to be anything but dangerous. The way he threw the mast down to his feet and glared at him, was proof of that. An animal, nothing more. Oh God, how he wished to tear out his throat right here and now.

He turned away from him, quickly, opening the paper in his hand, formally like it was his duty.

"Now, prisoner 24601. Your time is up and your parole´s begun. You know what that means."

He didn´t look at the man, not while he spoke, and not while he handed him the letter. Until he heard the smile in his voice. Free? Oh no. Don´t you ever think that, you bastard.

Javert had made sure he´d not get a chance to do any damage out there. His report to the authorities about this man had stated clearly how dangerous he was. And his letter would state that too, to everyone who would read it, now and forevermore. The prisoner 24601 would not get a chance to do harm to anyone out there, for the rest of his life.

The reaction he got was almost too classic.

Imprisoned for stealing a loaf of bread. For a starving child. Yes of course, you are the personalized innocence. Like all of them who are in here. Each of them only mere victims to unfortunate circumstances and the typical cases of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Javert knew all those stories, he´d heard them over and over again. Had investigated their truth, back then when he´d been younger and new to this. When he´d still believed them. After having found them lies, he´d stopped listening to them.

"You will starve again." he foretold the prisoner. "Unless you learn to finally obey the law. It goes for everyone, not just for others, 24601."

The man glared at him, dangerously. "My name is Jean Valjean." he hissed, and for a moment Javert was taken aback. The name was like a physical punch in the face. Sassy, yet again, insisting on being a person, not just the scum that he was. The nameless victim of his bloody imaginations had become a human being.

Javert did not know why he thought it wise to hit right back, with just the same response. To give a prisoner his name was not the best idea he´d ever had. But the prisoner had started it, and somehow Javert felt as if he had to beat him with his own weapons. As if this was the only language he would understand.

Valjean.

A name. A person. A presence he could never understand.

He would not call him by that name. The number he´d worn for all these years would stay with him, and he would always be the prisoner, that had the number 24601. Don´t forget this. Don´t forget it ever. You are lucky to walk out of here. Remember that you got away. Remember that I let you go. I could have killed you, easily.

Javert looked after him, with great relief. Relief that didn´t show. He left. At last. This danger that was urging him, to give in to this animal inside. He finally was gone, from his prison and his life. And yet, even now that he watched him go, Javert could feel his blood stir, with the need to race after him, throw him down and slash his throat. Drink his blood while he was still alive.

Javert wanted to close his eyes, to will the sensation away, but he couldn´t. His gaze was fixed on the man´s back. A man so dangerous, his presence alone could have unraveled a danger much more immediate than he himself could ever be. A demon, that, once it was set free, could bring such awful harm to everyone around … and not even Javert would be able to stop it. What he was most afraid of though, was the possibility that, once this beast would be released, he wouldn´t even want to stop it anymore.

This was what he was. What he was fighting for in life. To be better than this darker half. Stronger than this urge. He had to be or he would lose. Because if he would ever give in, there would be no going back. The beast would take over and the man would perish. Every hope he held for the survival and redemption of his soul, would vanish in the dark. The realm of evil.

He could not allow this. He would prevail. He´d not allow this demon of his father´s blood to take a hold and tear him down. He would survive, as good as possible. And make up before the world and God for this sin his mere birth was.

When finally the prisoner was up the stairs, out of his reach, he did exhale. The man was in the sunlight now. And even if Javert would want it, he would do better not to follow him. Just looking up to him, in this bright light, was hard to stand. But he kept doing it, for one last glance. A warning for the convict, never to forget. And then … he was gone.

Javert looked down, allowing his eyes to recover from the burning of the light. Damn he hated this. But he was glad. Relieved. Hopeful even. Valjean – the temptation – was gone. And Javert was trying to demand the thought of him to leave as well. It would take time, he knew. For days, maybe even weeks he´d wonder, if the man was still around, in the nearer area. If he would see him one day, on a corner, in the darkness, glaring, daring him again. If he would meet him in the night, if he´d attack him, make him kill him. If he would taste his blood after all …

At last Javert managed it to will the image away. Yes, it would take time. But time he had. So much time. If there was anything he´d learned in life, then that it was a constant fight.

To fight the world was easier at times.

* * *

><p><strong>Don´t hesitate to let me know what you think. I´m always grateful for feedback. As I already said, I hope you enjoyed this.<strong>

**And thanks for reading.**


	2. Eight Years of a Righteous Life

**Eight Years of a Righteous Life**

When the letter came, telling him about his promotion, it was like a sign. Finally fate seemed to be with him. After all those years of hard working, for practically nothing as payment, his righteousness got rewarded. That proved it. Progress was possible. Advancing oneself from what a man was born at. He no longer was a poor beggar´s kid, the child of a criminal that lived in the gutter. He wasn´t doomed to be the thing he was born as.

He left Toulon with no regret on his last day, and never even looked back. It was about time to leave, and he was ready to move on. The town he was sent to was said to be well lead. A mayor of good reputation. A mayor that would need a good police inspector to keep up the law.

The sound of it was great. Police inspector. Inspector Javert. Those words went well together. Javert did not practice a lot of pride but he was proud to carry this new title. A rank that proved once again, that a man could take fate into his own hands, and could indeed go the right way. Even if he was born in sin. It was a matter of choices, nothing more.

The day he reached Montreuil was a rainy day, and somehow he felt a strange sort of Dejavu. The new uniform fitted well, and when he rode into town, he rode with four officers that had been assigned to him. Finally his leadership was recognized. He would see to them doing a good job under his command. As well as he´d see to have the support of the mayor.

He suffered all the way through this rain, feeling slightly lightheaded as they approached the factory. A part of him wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. It was a bad timing for him, his first day of duty in Montreuil. It had been tiring and the last time he´d been drinking was almost three months ago. His body was already craving, more and more each day.

He knew it was foolish to think he could fight it back even longer. He´d already extended his own limits. Because his new life was about to start, a life he wanted to be in no way overshadowed by his past. Oh God, if he only could forget about it, cut this part of him out like a sick boil and get rid of it. If he could he´d do it. But of course he couldn´t. This one thing about him would never go away, no matter how much he advanced.

He knew, and yet he tried.

Maybe he should have drunk, he mused now. He felt sick, just a bit but it was enough. God, this stupid rain. Did it really have to start raining today? Now, from all the times in the world? He wanted to make a good impression on the mayor, not one of a man that got sick on his first day.

He made his horse run faster, through the tunnel that led to the front gate of the factory. People were crowding this tunnel, seeking shelter from the rain, and as Javert glanced at them, he felt disgusted. Dirty and sick they were. Wallowing in the mud. Their gazes so accusing, as if the whole world was to blame for their misery, just not them. Never them.

You are the reason why I´m here, their gazes said. Pathetic. Taking responsibility for their own lives was nothing any of those had ever considered. Why should they? It was so much easier to blame the rest of the world than to admit that they had failed to take action for themselves when it was necessary. These people were grown ups, but they looked at him like pouting kids. I´m mad at you. You never give me what I want. Look how mad I am.

Javert clung to this disgust. It helped to remind him of why he was here. Why he worked so hard, to make something of himself. And just knowing that he´d managed exactly that, gave him enough strength to fight down this rising nausea, caused by the water on his skin.

The foreman of the factory told him the mayor was expected back soon. He should feel free to wait in his office. And the slightly arrogant tone of the man aside, Javert was glad to have a few minutes to himself. To calm down, recover from the rain, and set his mind straight, before the mayor would arrive at last, to inspect him, the new man in town.

There was a strange smell in the air. He noticed it the moment he entered the office. Something familiar, as if he had smelled it before, long ago, in a time almost forgotten. But it was faint. So faint that he couldn´t place it. So he ignored it.

He´d just managed it to calm his stomach, when he heard a sound from beneath. Women´s voices, agitated over something and when he gazed out through the glass he saw some workers, fighting over something he couldn´t see. That was the moment a man entered the factory. His fine clothing and demeanor identified him instantly as the famous Monsieur Madeleine, mayor and owner of this factory. The man Javert was waiting for.

He watched him stop the fight. A few words of him were enough and the women stood straight, in a line, eyes cast down, respectfully. Just like it was supposed to be. Javert felt great respect for this man, only seeing this. In Toulon it had been just like that. And even though this was a factory and not a prison, the rules were still the same. Respect and authority. This man down there had both of it.

Javert watched, and then at last the mayor looked up, spotting him. He halted in his speech, realizing that he had a visitor. And something in his face seemed to change, to something Javert could not quite place. Surprise, sure. But there was something else too. Was he scared? Did he maybe think, Javert was here for a surprise inspection of his factory?

Now that was something new to him. Was what he saw there a typical nervous reaction, to something like that? Somehow it amused Javert to think his visit could have caused such a reaction. Respect indeed. Even from the mayor. It was appropriate. And he would correct this misconception as soon as the man was up here, so it was all right to enjoy the feeling for a moment.

Yes, he could already tell from this little glance that he´d shared with the man, that the two of them would work well together. He expected him up in the office the very next moment, but it seemed the mayor got delayed by something yet again. It took him almost five whole minutes to finally arrive. Again there was shouting from below. One of those women cried for Monsieur Le Maire, as if it was about her pity little life. And then it was quiet again. Javert felt irritated, just for a moment.

And then at last, the mayor entered.

"Welcome." he greeted, with a polite smile. "Inspector."

Javert had to keep calm. This was the moment. First impressions could never be repeated and he wanted to make a professional impression, not that of an overly excited rookie. He performed the obligatory bow, and silently handed over his letter, the one that stated his new position here in town.

That should be just about the right amount of respectful behavior. Not too much, not too less.

"Monsieur le Maire. Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name´s Javert, just transferred here from Toulon. I´ll be your new inspector." The gaze he received was strange but he went on, hiding his uncertainty. "Know me as your man for everything that requires the strong arm of the law in this town. Be assured, Monsieur, I will serve you well."

The mayor smiled, dutifully, and something about it unsettled Javert.

"Welcome, sir." he repeated his greeting, a little warmer now. But then he turned away from him, as if the other side of the room was more interesting. Or comforting? Was Madeleine nervous? He?

"It´s good to know I get good men like you, to guard our laws. I´m sure we´ll work well together on this behalf."

"I heard a lot of good things about you." Javert felt encouraged by those words. "A success like yours is rare these days. Because of you this city flourishes. Even higher people in Paris praise what you did."

The mayor glanced at him, over his shoulder, as if startled out of a thought, and for a moment Javert was overcome by a strange feeling. This Dejavu again, that he had had before. What was it? His reaction to the new town?

But there was something more to it. It was stronger now, not this slight lightheaded feeling from before. This was more … heavy. As if something about this man, not the place, was familiar.

Madeleine picket up something, still barely making eye contact. But when he leaned in, to hand him something, his smile made Javert hold out his hand, instinctively.

"We survive because we work with dignity, inspector." the gesture was enough to make everyone feel welcome and when Javert looked down on his hand, it was a little rosary Madeleine had given him. How fitting.

Yes, something just told him, that this was a good place. He and this mayor would indeed work well together. Maybe fate was generous to him this time. By sending him to this place where, other than in Toulon, he´d be respected by someone he felt instantly connected with. A man he would be able to trust in time. Yes, he could feel that, with great certainty. Monsieur Madeleine was good, righteous, just like him. And in time this feeling of Dejavu, this feeling of: "I know this somehow" would be a real one, not illusion, caused by exhaustion and excitement.

But was it really only that? Illusion? Javert knew the feeling of Dejavu. It came sometimes and usually it didn´t mean anything. But here … it was so strong. And this man. Something seemed so awfully familiar about him. This faint smell Javert had noticed before, he suddenly noticed that it had increased, since the mayor had entered. What was it? A special aftershave? But usually those things smelled more intense. No, that couldn´t be it. All of Javert´s senses seemed to tell him, that he knew this man, longer than just a few minutes.

"I hope you forgive me, sir." he dared to address this. "But it seems to me, we might know each other from before. Did we meet?"

But obviously that had been overstepping a line. The mayor´s friendly smile was gone, replaced by an almost blank expression. As if Javert had just insulted him.

"I surely wouldn´t have forgotten a face like yours, inspector."

Javert didn´t know why those words stung so much. From one moment to the other, this feeling of a possible good partnership was gone, wiped out, just by a simple comment. Or maybe by the gaze he had received? Something in the mayor´s eyes was hard now. Not as warm as it had been at the beginning.

The beginning. Javert almost laughed about himself. What beginning? He was here for maybe two minutes, had barely just met the man. How could he even think in terms like that? As if they had a history already. But strange as it was, that was how it felt. As if there had been something between them, that had built for years, and that now suddenly had gotten cracked. By something as stupid as a wrong comment.

Was he mad? This was ridiculous. This man was his superior. Not his friend. He would never be. Had he forgotten who he was? Just hoping to be equal with this man was an impertinence. And that had probably been the reason for the mayor´s reaction.

Javert lowered his gaze. Madeleine was right. He should know his place, and not fantasize about equality to his superior. That was just insubordinate. If any of his men would have tried that with him, he would have rebuked them even harder. Regarded from that perspective, the mayor had been quite polite with him, Javert.

He was about to speak, to apologize, when from outside there was noise. The mayor flinched, alarmed, and hurried out. Javert just followed, dutifully, to the back. Apparently there´d been an accident. A cart lay there, deformed and broken, probably veered because of the slippery mud. Javert took a moment to notice that it had stopped raining, and was glad for that. And already the next second, his attention was diverted, to the scene before him.

It all happened so fast he barely had the time to take in the details. A man, trapped under this cart, threatened to get crushed by it. People standing about, helpless and unable to move the heavy thing. And Javert already saw before his inner eyes, how the women would start shaking their heads in shock, a few minutes from now, about the gruesome death they´d had to witness. Without a hoist, it was pretty easy to predict this outcome. And then the mayor intervened. As if it already was a thing between them, that no matter what the situation, Javert would never be able to guess what he´d do next.

But this one thing was indeed extraordinary. When he picked up the beam of that cart, and pushed, Javert was frozen to the ground. The cart, so unmovable before started groaning, like a wounded animal, and slowly, very slowly it rose, just long enough to drag the man to safety.

For a moment Javert was speechless. He expected Madeleine to break down, in pain. Because he surely must have broken his back. Or at least strained it, way too much. But he didn´t. He didn´t.

This was impossible. Simply impossible. Something inside Javert was screaming, howling for him to wake up, and see what was there right in front of him. But this one thing just couldn´t be. He hadn´t heard of him in years. Had long believed him to be dead. Or gone from France altogether. This could not be the same man. It couldn´t be.

And yet, Javert just knew. He knew. And all the sudden, this feeling from before, this Dejavu, made sense to him. Of course. How had he missed that until now? How could he not have recognized him? He himself had made him lift this mast, the day he had released him on parole.

But no, his reasonable mind cried out. Don´t be a fool. This man is mayor, a respected businessman. Not an escaped criminal. Wake up, and stop to fall for deceiving intuitions. You must be starved too much, you need to drink, and you need to do it soon. Your brain is dried out, and you see ghosts of the past where there isn´t even a shadow.

The mayor looked up at him now, as if waiting for him to say something. There was something in his eyes. Something. Hesitant fear. And once again Javert felt his blood stir at the mere thought. Was it possible? This gaze. It was just as sassy as he remembered it from … eight years ago.

"This was … impressive." he heard himself say. "I never believed anyone could ever lift a weight like that."

The mayor didn´t say anything. He just waited. Carefully. Javert composed himself, called himself to order. Be reasonable. This is ridiculous.

And yet … this inner voice of his. It just wouldn´t stop screaming.

Valjean!

"I only ever saw one man …" he started, not able to stop himself. "Who was capable of something like that. A prisoner, from many years ago. He broke his parole and disappeared."

For a moment it was quiet in this alley, as if everyone around was holding their breath. Javert felt all their eyes on him. And the mayor.

"Don´t stop now." Madeleine demanded, dared. "What is it you mean to say?"

And at this confrontation, Javert just couldn´t go any further. His senses were still screaming. It was this part of him that spoke from a depth he usually would only despise and deny with all his heart, for it came from that unholy half of his soul. Senses so dark and so intense, he knew how to identify them. And right in this moment, he convinced himself that he was only feeling this, because his last time drinking was so long ago. What he felt now, was nothing but the effect´s of his body´s craving. The thirst was getting to his brain. It just had to be like this. This instinct that was stirring him, was a deception, nothing more. He mustn´t fall for that.

"Please, forgive me, sir." he apologized, with a respectful bow. "I didn´t mean anything with it. It was just a memory speaking. Nothing more."

And when he met the mayor´s gaze again, it was Javert who was afraid.

"If you´ll excuse me now." he said, and saw that he got out of there. Before his blood could start to boil, demanding other needs to be saturated. Oh God, he needed blood, and soon.

**...**

This night he went to the stables. The police horses were noble and strong. Their hearts were fiery and beating with temperament. Yet when Javert gently caressed the neck of his stallion, the wakeful eyes of the animal fell shut, again and again, as the calm took over. The mind of the horse got sleepy, calmer and more trusting. More than a horse would ever trust a man it had never known before.

Javert had liked the horse, right from the start. It was a good horse. Reliable and with a strong character. And now that he stood here, making it hold still, to serve him yet again, not as a mount but for something else entirely, he felt that he would have a good horse in this one for these coming years.

"Shhhhh." he made. "It´s all right. Everything is fine."

The horse took a deep breath. Javert could feel the air running through it´s throat, in the palm of his hand. And at this feeling he closed his eyes, listening even deeper. The blood was running warm and full of life, just underneath. Right here in front of him.

His mouth started to water, his lips opening, rising all on their own. His heart was beating faster, in anticipation. Yes, he needed this. Wanted this. Oh God, and how he hated it to want this so much.

But unfortunately this was a choice that had never been his. For this beast that lived inside him, was the only thing that kept him alive. It fed him, gave him strength, when after weeks and months of abstinence, the thirst would get too much at last, and all his body would crave for to keep living, was this liquid that he needed. This craving would take down all conscious thoughts or moral thinking, even the disgust he clung to oh so desperately.

He had control over it, for very long. Longer than most others, once again thanks to his other half. His mother´s human blood. But not forever. His father´s unholy heritage would not allow it. If he´d starve himself from it for good, he would die. Just like a beggar in the streets, his body drained from what it needed, really needed to survive. As much as he despised it, he had no choice. He needed it, to live another day.

When he reached this point he had to drink. And oh, this longing just before he drank, this desire for the thick red liquid, in his mouth, his throat, his veins …

He went down, to his knees, his hand caressing the leg of the horse, gently, possessively, all at once, until he reached the ankle. He despised the idea of hair on his tongue, so he took his time to shave the part, carefully. On the inside of the leg, to lower the risk of someone noticing it and asking questions. The horse remained calm, breathing deeply in it´s sleep, until Javert was done. The vein lay free, or at least as free as possible. Just seeing it, made Javert´s head spin in need. The shaving always took too long. And now his craving was the stronger call. Thoughts of discovery or care were gone, and all Javert could think of, was the blood. He bared his teeth, his fangs much longer now than usual, and bit, right into the ankle of the horse.

There was no flinch at all. The animal was sleeping. Javert´s teeth went in, easily after the first resistance of the strong skin, and then the blood came running, thick and warm and sweet and oh so full of energy. It filled his mouth, his throat, his stomach. Soon his head became so light, he seemed to float. As if his body was renewing all its cells, and for a while this feeling was replacing everything. Nothing else mattered anymore, only this. To take this in, with everything he was. To be at one with himself, even this other half of him that he usually tried to suppress with everything he had. In those moments, when he had no choice but to give in, he felt a wholeness that he never knew at any other time of his existence. As if he was complete, not half and loathsome. As if he could be totally free. With no shame or regret, about anything. It was flooding through him, and he felt how right it was, how much he needed this. To live, to be what he was meant to be.

But all this went away, as soon as he would wake the next day. When he was thinking clearly once again, and saw how sick this pleasure was, that he´d been feeling when he drank. He lived by drinking blood, for cry out loud. The blood of animals. Horses, a cow on one very desperate occasion. And if he wouldn´t be so disciplined, he´d drink from humans, like some others did. He would be killing so that he could live. How could he even think of feeling good, while doing this? It was a sickness, nothing more.

But he lived because he fed this sickness. And this time, when he woke the next morning, he felt as if he was reborn. As if the man Javert had been before, the guard he´d been in Toulon, had died the night before, and the inspector had been born. Maybe that wasn´t even all that wrong.

The only thing he wasn´t sure of, was if the memories from all those years ago, had died along with him. Or if they stayed, and would keep haunting him. Somehow he felt that he would find out very soon.

* * *

><p><strong>To everyone who read this far: I´m not sure if I should say Sorry or You´re Welcome. Guess it depends on what you expect from a story. Maybe I should spare to say anything at all. But I´d really like to know what YOU think.<strong>

**If you don´t despise the idea of Javert being a (half)vampire, I´d be happy to see you stick around. This is only the beginning. **

**And thanks for reading.**


	3. Exposure

**Exposure**

It wasn´t right. He´d come to this town with the order to serve the man, not to spy on him. To watch him whenever he had a chance, trying to figure him out, to spot something that would betray him. Something. Just something.

Javert despised the act of spying, so he called it observance. He wasn´t following the mayor around after all. But passing him in the streets in a town as small as Montreuil was not to be avoided. If he wanted it or not – and when he was honest, he´d rather avoid meeting him.

Ever since this strange meeting in the man´s office, Javert felt an irritating nagging in the back of his mind. A voice so silent he barely heard words, but merely an inaudible whisper, that told him about fate. About a scent he´d noticed. The mayor´s scent. A scent he´d forgotten to know, over the course of eight years. That he indeed knew this scent and that he didn´t need any more proof to know who Madeleine really was.

But Javert ignored it. Something as translucent as intuition was worth nothing. Only real proof could convince him – anyone – if he wanted to report his discovery. A convict that pretended to be mayor of an entire city. Unthinkable. A crime.

But he couldn´t prove it. His instinct would convince no one. It couldn´t even convince himself. It wasn´t the best start for a new inspector to come to town and lay his eyes on the mayor. Arresting his own boss was a dangerous thing. It could as well cost his own career. Was that worth it? Javert wasn´t sure.

This man irritated him. The way he seemed drawn to him, to watch him, to wait for something, anything, that would finally lift the veil and reveal what secret it was that seemed to be hidden underneath the surface.

_You know it´s him. You just know it. _

_I have no proof. I could be mistaken. How could I be sure? _

_You know. You know. It´s him. Jean Valjean!_

"Well, well." a familiar voice spoke behind him, and Javert flinched. "Looky who we have here." the man walked around him, as if examining a rare specimen, and Javert felt the well known hate just looking at him.

He hadn´t seen André Thénardier in many years, and it was still too soon for this reunion. Everyone of his kind was to be avoided at any costs. As long as Javert stayed away from them, he could pretend he had nothing in common with those creatures.

The revenant seemed to smell his disgust, and smiled at him, baring his fangs just enough for Javert to see. It was repulsing. As if he was proud of it. Dammit, of course he was. Disregarding the fact that he had to walk around all covered with thick cloth on bright days. Disregarding the fact that the contact with something as vital and life-giving as water made him sick. Disregarding even the fact that he would putrefy if it wouldn´t be for a regular dose of blood from something that, other than him, truly lived.

"What do you want?" Javert growled at the hooded revenant. "I didn´t invite you here. This is my town and you don´t belong here. None of you."  
>André made a clicking sound with his tongue, as if he was actually hurt. His gaze, for a moment in the distance, said loud and clear: That is so typical for you. But then his smile was back, so naturally as if Javert had welcomed him instead of wishing him at the devil.<p>

"I just came to give you this." he handed him a small letter, sealed and nobly written. The hand of a nightwalker, Javert immediately could tell. One more example for this kind of intuition that he tried to deny to even have.

"I knew you´d forget it, if no one would remind you." Thénardier stated, smiling widely.

Javert narrowed his eyes. "How could I ever forget?" he hissed, causing an even wider smile.

"Exactly." André seemed satisfied. "So I guess I see you there."

Javert closed his eyes, willing the loathing away, and forced himself to nod.

"Good." André padded his shoulder, a little too hard to feel friendly. And for a moment he let his hand rest there, as if Javert was his, a dog that had to follow when the master whistled.

"Do not touch me." he shoved him away. "And don´t approach me in public anymore. I would have dozens of reasons to arrest you, Thénardier."

"You would arrest your family?"

"We are not family."

"We are." Thénardier stepped closer, and Javert skipped back, in disgust. "It is the blood that binds us. Not even you can deny that." he regarded him for a moment, still smiling this sickening smile of his. "When was the last time you drank, Antoine?" he asked. "You look pale."

"Be gone." Javert demanded, trying to hide his shiver at the sound of his first name, spoken by a creature like this. "My life is none of your business."

But of course this Thénardier would not just leave. His eyes flew over the market place. "I noticed you were watching someone." he mentioned. "Did you finally come around, to indulge in the hunt? Did you?"

"I´m a police inspector. If I keep an eye on people it doesn´t mean that I will eat them."

"What a shame." André glanced at something specific now. "He looks healthy. A tasty snack if you ask me."

Javert swirled around, to see Valjean – Madeleine! – at a fruit card, talking heartily to the seller.

"Not a bad choice." the creature praised and Javert faced him, quickly.

"Leave." he demanded, glaring. "This is not your hunting ground. If I see you again, around here anywhere, I will arrest you, and I don´t care on what charges."

"All right, all right." André stepped back, and glanced at the mayor one more time. "I don´t wanna steal your food." he smiled, raising both hands. "He´s all yours. Have fun."

And with that the disturbing man was gone.

Javert looked over his shoulder, at the mayor, and exhaled, relieved. And finally now that he had the time, he felt the letter in his hand again. This formal invitation. As if it had been gone, while Thénardier was still there, and rematerialized just now, to be remembered. Javert sighed. Never, he thought. He could never ever escape from that.

**...**

It was a meeting that would be held every ten years only. A long time inbetween meetings for a normal human but indeed a very short period of time for creatures that could live forever.

Living. Javert did not even want to laugh about this word. What was alive there? They were not living. They existed, but they were all dead. Dead things that still walked the earth, undead, and killing others to survive. There was nothing more unholy in this world, or the next. He was ashamed and disgusted at the thought that he was, even halfway one of them.

If he´d have a choice he wouldn´t go to this meeting. If it was up to him, he wouldn´t see them anymore. Not one of them. But unfortunately this was the only occasion where it wasn´t up to him. The old reunion had to be honored so they said. An almost religious connection that had to be renewed each decade, by these big gatherings that happened in this one night, all over the world. Even where there wasn´t nighttime yet.

It wasn´t about darkness anyway. It was about this oh so special something that Javert believed very strongly to be nothing more than an old men´s tale. What would happen if someone was delayed? Because he had duties to attempt? Or was that something a _real_ vampyre would not allow to keep him away?

Well, Javert would. But the elders would find him, and drag him there. They´d done it two times already, and by now Javert just thought it wiser and less humiliating, to just go there on his own free will. He wouldn´t stay there long, and then for another ten years hopefully, he wouldn´t have to see any of them.

He wasn´t interested in their chats, their laughing and their rituals. He didn´t even want to know what some of them did, when they got together in those silent circles, heads bowed as if they meditated, humming quietly, some of them holding hands in a way Javert could only call fanatic. What did they think they felt there? Connection? Something that imitated life? Something they would never have again? It was a lie, and they should know that. God, how long did he have to stay here?

"You always stand alone." a warm voice spoke behind him, and he turned around, to see a dark face. Black eyes, that had probably already been black when the old woman was still human. The Indian heritage just did that. Now that she looked at him, Javert could see a glimpse of warmth, even in a dead face like hers.

He remembered her. Her name was Shanti he believed. He´d seen her on these other meetings, but never ever talked to her. Why had she picked him out now?

"You don´t want to join us?" she now asked him, and he shook his head. "Why not?"

"I don´t have to explain myself." he answered, rather gruff. "To none of you."

"I see." she nodded, and regarded him with a gaze that looked right through him. "You …" she seemed to listen. "You prefer the other side of yourself." she found and nodded yet again. "I understand. It´s hard to be torn between dark and light."

"I am not torn."

"You are. We all are."

Javert laughed. "None of you has any light left in you. You´re all just creatures of the dark. What do you know about light?"

"I know more than you think, Antoine. I know you´re struggling. Fighting. You are at war with yourself but this is a war that can never be won. You´ve got to make peace with your other half. Or you will never stop fighting."

Javert glared down on her, suspiciously. "Why do you even care?" he asked, but the old woman simply shrugged.

"Maybe we were related once. In another life."

"There are no other lives."

"There are, inspector. I lived maybe dozens of them, before I got turned. I know it. I can feel it, deep inside of me. And I have met a lot of those souls again, that I knew back then. By far not all of them yet. But I´m searching."

Javert raised a brow. "What are you even talking about?"

"I talk about souls, Javert. Those of us who lived earlier lives, before we died and got reborn … we have families. Families in soul and spirit. Those souls that were connected once, they find each other, through the times. In their new lives they meet again, drawn to each other by a magic bond. A chain that binds them to each other. And even if they don´t know it. They find each other again and again." She touched a jewel on her neck, lovingly at the thought. "I found my husband that way." she told him. "I met him again. Even after I died. He doesn´t remember me of course. But I fell in love with him just the same. I´m thinking about turning him … but I´m not sure yet."

"Don´t do it." Javert instantly cried, and she looked at him, taken aback, just for a moment.

"But if he wanted to."

Javert suppressed a shout, tried his best not to ask her heatedly who would ever want a thing like that. No human being would ever want to be turned into something as abhorrent as this. Shanti was old, but she acted like a lovesick girl of sixteen, that had no idea the boy would never even look at her. He probably had a fiance already, a woman she had just not seen because she only watched him from afar. From the shadows. No. This whole talk was ridiculous.

"Did you ever meet someone, Antoine?" she asked him out of the blue. "Did you ever meet a soul you knew before?"

Javert immediately thought of Valjean. The mayor. A man he´d known as someone else, when he had lived a different life. But that was not what Shanti asked about. She talked about rebirth and souls. Not criminals that lived under different names.

"No." he said therefor, but as she lowered her eyes, it seemed as if she didn´t believe him.

"Who gave you this rosary?" she asked, and Javert flinched, shoving it deeper into his pocket. He hadn´t noticed that it had slipped out. Shanti smirked, her dark eyes flashing with humor. "Did someone try to fend you off with that?"

Javert didn´t return the smile. "It was a gift." he explained, shortly and Shanti nodded.

"I see." she gave a tiny shrug, still with that edge of wit to the gesture. "It´s a good thing indeed that the tales people tell about us, aren´t true, isn´t it?"

Javert did not answer. And once again she only smiled at his rudeness.

"You will see, inspector. Eventually you´ll see. The soul indeed exists. And the chain that binds those souls together can never be broken. Not by time and not by death. We all find those that we loved once, if we want to or not. Even if we don´t know it."

"If we don´t know it, how could I eventually _see_?" he mocked her own words, but she would not be irritated by that.

"Your heart will tell you." she said and Javert rolled his eyes. "The heart of a vampyre is stronger than that of a human, Javert. We have senses that go deeper. Your heart knows things even if your mind doesn´t. It sees where your eyes might fail you. You´ve got to learn to listen to this heart."

Javert was silent.

"Just be careful what you do." she went on. "Those who meet again, usually don´t remember their past lives. They don´t remember what happened once, and the mistakes they made. They don´t remember they might have sworn once, to do better next time. That´s the real perfidious thing about it, you know. We get the chance to try again, and yet, we are not allowed to remember and learn from our mistakes. We have to do it all over again, and most of the time, we just repeat it all. Making the same mistakes again and again. An endless circle. It is sad."

"Yeah." Javert was not sympathetic, when he said that. He actually was bored by now. Just an old woman swaggering about philosophy and how unfair life could be. He simply made a noise to show that he acknowledged all her blustering.

"When you meet this person, Javert." she went on. "Whoever it might be …"

"Bite them and drink them empty." a new voice talked over her, and for a change Javert was with her all the way, when she looked up, annoyed and angry.

André had done it once again. He had snuck up on him, in utter silence. And now that he was standing there, there was a coldness in his eyes, as if he was despising, deeply, what he´d heard them talk about.

"You´re not trying to make friends with the other side, Shanti, do you?" he asked. "Again? Have you still not learned your lesson? Even when you dress like them, live like them, and pretend to be one of them, you will never belong to them. You belong to us. And they … they might not know but they will always feel it."

Shanti glared at him, so cold now that even Javert felt fear of her. "You mean they feel we are the better race?" she asked. "This is how you see it, right? This is why you´re holding humans like slaves. Like dogs you treat them."

André only smiled. "What can I say?"

"Better don´t say anything." Shanti snapped. "I don´t have anything to say to you. And I don´t want you to speak to me either."

She gave Javert one last glance, a bit softer, just for him, before she turned around and walked away.

"I couldn´t have said it any better." Javert agreed, not even looking at André and turned to leave. Only André would not just let him.

"You shouldn´t listen to her, friend." he held him back.

Javert glared at him. "I´m not your friend. Let go of me."

André did. "Just a friendly advice from me. She´s an old fool, and tells stories just for the heck of it. Don´t listen to her. Something like fate does not exist. Not with them. Eternity can only exist among our own kind." And before Javert had a chance to give a poisonous response, André grabbed him once again. "You´re not leaving yet, do you? The hour isn´t here yet."

And Javert only glared back. "Of course I´m not leaving."

The smug grin he saw, was so full of victory, it was disgusting. When André let go of him, it was because he didn´t need the leash anymore to make the dog stay.

"Good."

**...**

These following days he was trying to bury himself in work, to get rid of those disturbing thoughts. What had this woman done to him? This vampyre lady, he didn´t even know. Why had he even talked to her? She was one of them. A creature of the night like all the others.

_The heart of a vampyre is stronger than that of a human, Javert. We have senses that go deeper. You´ve got to learn to listen to this heart._

Javert shook his head, forced the memory of her voice down. Lies. Fairy tales. Vampyres didn´t have hearts at all. They were dead. Dead. And so was he. At least one half of him was. And this half of him was probably the reason why he couldn´t get rid of this thought. It was once again trying to take him down, by disturbing him. But he wouldn´t allow this. He would fight it, and he would win. This silly story had to end, right now.

He took on double shifts, just to make sure he would be occupied, day and night. Too busy to give room for all these ideas to haunt him. And this week of double shifts became his most successful on his record of arrests. When a culprit would try to run, he´d chase after him, much faster than expected, and catch him only at the nearest corner.

A few times he felt amused, even proud, as he saw the wild and startled eyes of those who thought they could outrun him. And they almost always tried to run. At the end of the week, he almost hoped for one or two of them, to try and bolt. Just so he could run after them.

It was Friday night, although, when one of them, a well known drunkard – and not a small man by that – was not attempting to escape, but in his drunken state, indeed attacked him, openly.

Javert again felt how his heart began to race, anticipating the attack. And almost instantly, before it even started, the man was on the ground, trapped beneath his knee, which bore between his shoulder blades.

Javert forced both his hands together, on his back, and asked his men for handcuffs. That was the moment when he noticed all the gazes on him, staring, baffled, about how easily he had defeated this giant. And only then did he begin to really understand. That what he´d done had not been simple luck, or well attempted training concerning hand to hand fights. That catching all these running culprits had not been simply being in good shape.

He had been boosted, yes indeed. But not just by determination. Since he´d started double shifts, he´d barely slept an entire night. And yet he was as fast and strong as never before in his life. Dear God. What was happening to him? What had he allowed himself to become? It had been like that this entire week, and he hadn´t even noticed. And it had been the strongest at night.

Vampyre.

Javert felt fear take over his heart, and quickly looked around. Their gazes. So intense. So scared. Of him, not of the violent man he´d just taken down. So it had happened at last. They saw him, what he truly was. And they were scared of it. It wouldn´t matter that he was protecting them. All they would see would be the monster. This creature of the night that he was.

And then a man stepped forward, unafraid.

"What is this?" he heard the familiar voice. "What happened here?"

He looked up at the mayor, still unable to say a word. He met his gaze, and there was something there, just something that told him that he had not just gotten here. That his question was not innocent and unknowing. That he knew, exactly what had happened. That he had seen it like everyone had.

"Inspector." he spoke. "Dear God, are you all right? I know this man, he´s a drunkard, often seen to hurt some weaker men. Thanks God you overpowered him."

Around them people started mumbling, and Javert could feel the tension shift. Those few words of Madeleine, had changed their point of view, away from him, Javert, to this man he held currently beneath his knee, in check.

"I barely saw any constable that dared to fend him in this state. You are a very brave man, indeed. Thank God the man was way too drunk to be a real danger to a trained police man."

The mumbling became louder, more relieved, and Javert could feel that now the rest of their fear towards him was forgotten. The only thing they saw now, was what Madeleine had just suggested them to see. A luck that this so well known violent man, had been stopped by him, Javert, the man they all knew as their guard of law and order. A relieved laughter rose, and from one moment to the other there was applause in the air. People started clapping, one by one, and the mayor, upon hearing this, joined in as well.

Javert´s men at last, came to him, helping him to lift the man, and put the handcuffs on him after all. They led him away, three of them together to make sure he wouldn´t try to fight again. And all Javert could see was Madeleine, his eyes on him, still clapping with the rest around. To praise him, here in front of everyone. For bravery. For well done service to the public. For winning a fight that was a challenge, but did not require supernatural powers.

Simple. Good enough for all these people. But something in the mayor´s eyes, just told Javert, that _he_ knew. He knew.


	4. The monster Inside

**The monster Inside**

He got ordered to the mayor´s office a week later. To be honored as they told him, for this arrest of a man who had been attacking and hurting people again and again. And yet Javert just knew that this was not the reason why the mayor truly called him in. It was an excuse and nothing more. And he could tell what it would really be about.

Was he mad? Daring _him_, Javert, where he could have easily denounced _him_? Was he suicidal?

He wouldn´t go there. It would be unwise. His entire target was it to avoid the man, not to pay a visit to his office. The place where this insanity began. He´d do them both a favor.

But obviously Valjean was not a man to take a gift, that easily presented. Or he was really suicidal. For when Javert would not arrive to visit him, he seriously came to the station-house.

"Inspector." one of his men addressed him, his voice a little bit uneven. "The mayor is here to see you."

Javert only looked at Madeleine, already stepping in behind the man.

"Inspector." he greeted, and Javert just moved his head, eyes never changing.

"Monsieur le Maire. You´re coming here to declare a crime?" and he couldn´t help himself and had to add: "Turning yourself in maybe?"

The sergeant by the mayor´s side, began to laugh, almost stupidly, at the pathetic joke. The mayor smile was much more careful, and aware. Javert could smell his fear.

"I got the word that you excused yourself with too much work to come and see me." Madeleine now said. "But I really wanted to give this to you personally."

"I see." Javert regarded him, and so did the young sergeant. "Sergeant that is all."

The man flinched, realizing that he´d overstayed his welcome, and hurried out. The mayor seemed amused.

Before Javert could say a thing, he raised his hand, to show the letter. "I … figure you don´t value things like that too much. It´s only paper after all."

Javert was startled. "That … is even true." a stammered unexpected. "How did you know that?"

Suspicion grew inside his mind, until the mayor simply shrugged.

"I figured. Who else would excuse himself from being honored after an heroic act like that?"

"What I did was not heroic."

"The people see it differently. And so do I. This man has terrorized the city way too long. He always got away with it. People were afraid to report him. For he´s strong. Strong enough to snap a grown man´s neck. He never got caught red handed, so there was no proof. You finally changed that."

"I´ve done my duty, nothing more."

And here the mayor smiled again, so warm it was just irritating. "You are a good man, inspector." he said. "I am glad to have you in this city."

"Are you?" Javert asked before he could restrain himself. And something in the mayor´s eyes caught the hint.

Javert was not as sorry as he should be to have slipped. It was just fair. He´d come here to probe him, then he could just as well let him know _he_ knew as well. Be careful, Monsieur le Maire. Be very careful.

The gaze that lay on him, was dropped, as if embarrassed. But Javert knew better than to think like that.

"I only wanted you to know … that I appreciate the service that you do." he raised the letter once again. "This might just be some paper, but it is now in your file. And one day it might be seen by someone and it grants you a promotion. You would deserve it."

A stitch of something shameful started in Javert. Why did he have to do this? Why did he have to praise him? Did he not realize that he could be his doom? And in so many ways at that. The fear he could still sense in the man was stirring something in his own soul, yet again. And Javert had to force himself to calm this monster. The monster that was wondering, right now, how it would taste – the mayor´s blood.

"I appreciate the gesture." he sped up the talk. "I still have work to do though."

"Of course." the mayor smiled and handed him the letter.

Javert took it, and just a moment, while both their hands were on the paper, he felt a jolt of something, passing through the thing. But that could easily have been a draft.

**...**

It was getting worse. Javert was trying, really trying to avoid him, but it somehow wouldn´t work. The more he tried, it seemed, the more did he walk past him, in the streets. As if the man was haunting him. And Javert was fuming, deep inside. He wanted blood. And badly. But drinking from his horse did not seem right. Not nearly enough. His mind was set on Madeleine. The mayor. He wanted, madly, to sink his teeth into _his_ flesh, to drink _his_ blood, and drain him empty. The only man he´d ever felt this urge towards had been Valjean. The culprit he´d released so many years ago.

It wasn´t that he was the only one aware of this. The mayor, even though much more cautious than Javert, about the reasons, knew very well about the watchful gaze that followed him in the streets. And no, he was not crossing paths with the inspector on purpose. He wasn´t suicidal after all.

But maybe, just maybe, there was a part of him, so hidden in the back of his mind, that made him curious, much more than it was good for him. What he had seen that night, in the inspector´s eyes, had been fear. Fear!

This man had been cold and without emotion ever since he remembered him. And in that night he had proven a strength and agility that was beyond amazing. And yet, he´d been scared. Of what?

For an instant it had seemed as if he too was hiding a great secret. Just like him. Was that even possible? The mayor couldn´t stop, even if he tried, to brood about this possibility, this part of his mind that wouldn´t let him drop the subject, keeping him awake at night

Was it possible? Was it? But what could such a man possibly hide? A man as rigid and righteous as Javert? He had nothing to be afraid of? Had he?

If only any human being could understand that fear did not require enemies. If only people understood that sometimes fears came from an even deeper place, and that sometimes we are the biggest enemy ourselves, much crueler and more dangerous and merciless, than any outside enemy could ever be.

If only he´d known all this, the mayor of Montreuil would have known the answer to his questions.

But he didn´t. And neither did Javert.

The only thing Javert knew, was that the mayor of his town, was indeed not who he claimed to be. If nothing else, his thirst for the man´s blood was proof enough for him. Maybe, he thought, Shanti had been right after all. Maybe there were some things instinct could tell you, without doubt. Only that this instinct was a deadly one. If he would give in, Javert, the man, would be no more. The monster in him would take over. And unimaginable horror would come upon this city.

The mayor would only be the first to die. How many more would he slaughter, before someone would put an end to it? Javert did not want to bear such thoughts. He couldn´t let it come that far. He had to do something. And fast.

And yet, he did nothing. Nothing at all. What could he do anyway? Other than asking for a transfer. To some other place, where he would no more see this man. Where he could not be tempted by his scent, the smell of his blood. But a transfer was unthinkable. Not at this point of his career.

What really scared him though, was the thought, that maybe he delayed a solution to his problem, because he didn´t want to put an end to it. Was this monster in him, influencing even his conscious mind? Making him believe he was acting rationally while for real he was just servant to its needs? Was that possible?

He didn´t get a chance to find the answer to this riddle. Something happened, in one of the first nights of winter. Something that should take over all his thoughts for a long time.

This was where his nightmare really began.

**...**

The first thing Javert consciously noticed, was the blood. It wasn´t much, only a scratch, on the cheek of a man, but it was there. But he did not feel anything. No stir of thirst or thrilling sensation on his skin, the way it happened when he came too close to Madeleine.

He shook the thought off, annoyed about himself. This was ridiculous. He wasn´t an animal, easily set off. And before Valjean no one´s blood had ever agitated him anyway. Ever. The thought was just ridiculous. He went on with the arrest of the attacker, ignoring her pathetic pleads and lies, when suddenly the mayor was right there. As if Javert´s thoughts had called him there.

His slightly startled formal bow was answered with a cool gaze.

"A moment of your time, Javert." the mayor spoke. "Do you really believed this one´s tale?" he pointed at the gentleman, as if _he_ was the one who should be doubted.

And Javert could only chuckle. So he´d seen what happened, and now that she was crying, begging with her lies, he fell for it. The silly man.

"Monsieur le Maire." he started mildly, but got interrupted.

"You´ve done your duty, let her be." the mayor ordered, and Javert´s men, intimidated by the title, immediately obeyed. "She needs a doctor, don´t you see that she is sick?" Madeleine openly challenged him, and Javert felt anger beginning to boil.

"Monsieur le Maire." he warned, but got ignored yet again.

"What will become of her child, Javert?" he asked, just as heartbreakingly as the prostitute had tried it. "If no one intervenes."

Oh, please, dear God in heaven. Was he really that blind to believe such a story? Obviously. There was a reason why administrative work and work that actually had to be executed, was done by different people. Did he seriously think, that giving Javert a letter of some sort, that might or might not be supportive once he was considered for promotion, would give him the right to order him around, to stand back whenever he wished? That he would cower before him like a well trained dog? This was _his_ business, and here it was _him_ who held authority, not the mayor. The city might be his but the streets were Javert´s.

And once again, Javert felt hungry, for something that he shouldn´t hunger for. He looked at this man, the mayor, and felt the urge to throw him down, to shut him up, and keep him from meddling in business that wasn´t his. And Madeleine simply turned away from Javert, ignoring his clearly warning gaze, and went to speak to this pathetic whore. Who did he think he was? More even: Who did he think Javert was?

The whore was fending his attempt to help her. Not even _she_ wanted him to meddle in her business. The great savior. Yeah, sure. Do you see it now? No one wants you here. Not even your fallen angel there.

When she spat in his face, Javert almost felt glee. Especially at the sight of this self chosen protector of the poor who suddenly paled at her accusation. That he could be the reason for someone else´s misery. It was almost heartbreaking, to see what happened in his face. Almost.

Javert raised his hand when one of his men attempted to step in, to punish this prostitute for having the guts to spit at the mayor. No, no. Let them work this out alone. That´s how he wanted it. And all this time he was not able to take his eyes away from that scene. She, how she kept crying, and telling her heartbreaking story, and he who knelt down, close to tears. In the end he picked her up, seriously lifting her into his arms to carry her away, like a bride.

"I will take her to the hospital." he informed Javert, stubbornly avoiding his gaze. And Javert gave him one last chance to be reasonable.

He wouldn´t listen. He just kept walking, carrying this woman away, soothing her like a child, and left Javert behind, embarrassed before his men and everyone who had been there to witness this.

**...**

The heat was boiling, deep inside his chest, his stomach, his heart. Worse than ever. He wanted to kill him. Kill him slowly, seeing the blood flow out of him, wetting the ground, while his eyes glazed over. But not before he saw the panic in them, the terror, the pure horror, born by the knowledge that he´d brought this on himself, with what he´d done. That this one thing had been the one thing too much.

No one had ever dared to anger Javert. But this man, he just couldn´t let it be. He just couldn´t stay away or lay low. As if he had a wish for his own doom. Did he? Well, Javert could grant him that wish.

It would be so easy. To finally let go. To give up the fight that tried to contain the monster, as it was snarling, sneering, growling, rattling against the bars of its cage. It wanted to be let out, to hunt down this man – Valjean – and sink its teeth into him. To drink his blood, and take his life. To kill him. Slaughter him. Barbarically.

Javert exhaled, too fast, and closed his eyes. No. No! Don´t. He felt as if he was falling, the only thing that kept him grounded in this world, was his hand, on the bureau. Stop that. Stop thinking like that. Don´t even go there.

He had to do something. He had to act. Or he´d lose the battle against this beast. It was trying to tempt him with heightened senses, evolved strength and agility to overpower even the strongest culprits in the streets at night. High speed to catch whoever tried to get away from him – except Valjean maybe.

But Valjean didn´t try to run. He stood in his place and ordered him around. Practically asking Javert to kill him, savagely. One day – or better yet, one night – Javert would not be able to control himself any longer, and then he´d go to seek him out. He´d see him in the streets at night, strolling through the most dangerous parts of the city to give his usual alms, and then he´d simply drag him into a dark corner, slash open his jugular with his teeth and drink – just drink.

Or he´d lose his mind for good and even knock on his door, lunging at him as soon as he opened, unsuspecting, and kill the man on the floor of his own apartment. Whatever it would be, he would lose himself, and after that, no one would be safe anymore. Javert had to stop this, before it happened. He had to find a way.

Denouncing the mayor was still not the best way to start a career, but it was better – way better – than killing the man in a rush of bloodlust. Javert knew he was right about him. What to do, when you had a crime, the criminal even, but no evidence? Why, a confession of course. But getting a confession from this man? Impossible. And if Valjean didn´t confess all on his own, there was no way to make him do it. Javert no longer had the authority to make him do anything he didn´t want to. He hadn´t been able to stop him with authority, when he´d carried away this prostitute. Being the oh so noble savior of the poor, the weak, the innocents.

Javert wiped the sweat off his forehead. There had to be a way. He wouldn´t be able to still his thirst with his horse as a substitute for much longer. Not when the cry in his brain for the mayor´s blood got so loud.

Substitutes. Javert halted at the word. It had always worked for him. Why not again? Only this time … it would have to be a different kind of substitute. In order to still this kind of rage inside of him, it would need a much more radical one, in fact.

**...  
><strong>

Only a day after Valjean had embarrassed him in front of his men, Javert went back to do his duty on the day shift. He needed the nights for something else now. He needed to be free at night, to go out and keep his eyes open. To seek. To find. To hunt.

It wasn´t easy. He couldn´t do it in Montreuil. If anyone would see him, stalking through the night, people would ask questions. And Valjean was almost constantly out at night. He couldn´t risk to meet him when he was hunting. Hunting for someone, just anyone, so he could finally overcome this hunger for a human´s blood. This very special human´s blood.

If he was careful it could work. But only if he stayed in control at all times.

It took him half a week. The nights were long, and if it hadn´t been for the sake of his own soul, and self control, he hadn´t taken all the effort upon himself. But in the end his patience was rewarded. He found his man – his prey – halfway through the forth night. A beggar, like he had expected it. The best he could have hoped for actually. He´d have no one to come forward if anything happened to him, no one to help him. A loner in this world. Invisible. But not to him, Javert. The predator.

Javert was silent, like a shadow in the night. He watched him, from the darkness. And this man had no idea that he was there.

He watched, his muscles tensing in anticipation. Soon. Soon.

His prey awkwardly tried to scale a fence and when he lost balance and fell, Javert lunged forward, unable to hold back any longer. He caught him before he hit the ground, and pushed him, hard against the fence.

A face of utter terror stared at him, and something in Javert was burning. Yes. He was just perfect. The nose, the forehead, and his eyes. So very much alike. Almost the same. But he was not Valjean. Javert could sense the difference. The smell that met his nostrils was different. And that was probably the only thing that saved this man from being eaten.

Javert just grabbed him, tightly, at the collar, smiling at him grimly but with utter satisfaction.

"You are under arrest." he said. "Jean Valjean."

* * *

><p><strong>Care to share your thoughts? Don´t hold back.<strong>

**And thanks for reading.**


	5. Confronting the Beast

**Confronting the Beast**

The waiting was the hardest thing. He couldn´t rest. He couldn´t sleep. And worst of all he couldn´t speed things up. What if they found his man was innocent? If they would not agree that he was Valjean? What would Javert do?

But no. Of course they´d find him guilty. They´d charge him. It had been a police inspector after all, who had identified him. They wouldn´t doubt that. And when at last the letter came, Javert was not sure how to feel. His fake Valjean would face the court, to be sentenced for life, if not more. For crimes someone else had committed. And as he read that, Javert felt something he hadn´t expected. A tiny stitch of guilt.

This man was innocent, at least to be Valjean. He´d stolen apples, yes. But that was minor. If things would turn out different than he hoped, this man would get punished far worse than needed. And if that happened it would be his fault.

And now they even told him he would get promoted, for his commitment. What if Valjean would fail to do the right thing after all? What if he wouldn´t come and give himself away? If this Champmatieu would be sentenced in Valjean´s name? Would Javert be able, even if he tried, to make this right again? How could he admit to have put up a trap, that hadn´t worked? He would make himself ridiculous. And if they wouldn´t throw him out of the police for his insolence, they would dismiss him because he was an idiot.

He crumbled the letter in his hands. No. This mustn´t happen. He´d gone too far by now. His plan had started, the dice were cast. Now he had to see that they would fall the right way. Champmatieu would go to court, in place of Jean Valjean, the one and only. And Jean Valjean had no idea about his luck. Yet.

Javert would have to let him know.

**...**

He would dismiss him, Javert was sure of it. A chance like that would simply be too good. The moment Jean Valjean would see that he could get rid of him, Javert, he´d do it. Kill two birds with one stone. It was a risk, Javert was willing to accept. It would only proof him right all the more, as soon as Valjean´s true identity would be revealed.

No battle could be won, without some sacrifices. And he was confident to get his uniform back, as soon as he explained his reasons. The success would outweight the liberties he´d taken. But even if he´d get demoted, as long as he achieved his main goal, he´d accept it. Valjean was as good as defeated.

He went to see the mayor, right away. Before he´d lose his drive and it seemed too easy almost, to be allowed to see him. As if Javert was all too welcome in his office. Oh soon he wouldn´t be, not anymore.

He had his full attention, right from the start.

"Inspector." was the most uncertain greeting Javert had ever received from this man.

Javert could not dare to look at him, for he was sure Valjean would see the lie in his eyes. He´d see the fire, the anger and the anxiety, to see him behind bars.

"Monsieur le Maire." he began. "I have a crime to declare."

And from one moment to the other Valjean´s tension grew, to utter fear. Javert could sense it. All of it. The mind behind this stoic forehead worked, and it worked fast. The man was sweating, silently. Hidden from the normal human senses. But not from him. Not from Javert. Valjean was scared, out of his wits. And Javert could smell his fear. It made his heart beat faster, in anticipation.

"I must pay for this insolence." he told him. "If any of my men had done it, I would punish him just as hard. He would never work in our force again. So if you treat me any differently, it would be wrong before the lord. Feel free to charge me with whatever punishment you like. I will accept it."

He offered him his service weapon, to take it from him, and with it all his duties and authority. He just stood there, waited, for Valjean to season this amazing opportunity and speak his judgment over him, to throw him out and send him on his way. But then there was a turning point again. As if this man was doing that on purpose.

He came to him, not fearful anymore, even though the fear remained, just underneath the surface. But he didn´t take the sword from him, the way Javert expected it. He shoved it back, gently almost, as if he had to sooth him. For just a moment, his hand lay over his, and Javert was startled, that the gesture wasn´t aggressive. That for a change he didn´t feel the urge to jump this man and kill him right away.

"You´ve only done your duty." Valjean told him, as if his offer to be charged with treason was ridiculous. "We all have been mistaken once or twice in our life, Javert. And you are not a man I want to lose. Your service for this city is of too much value and I want you to return to it. If that was all, I´d say you do that right away."

And with that he sat back down, as if his paperwork was way more important. And Javert just didn´t know what to say. Or do.

What had just happened? Was he dreaming? This couldn´t be. Valjean was supposed to react differently. He was supposed to be agitated. Scared. Scared enough to dig his own grave. But when Javert glanced up, the mayor wasn´t even looking at him anymore. He was attempting his paperwork, and he, Javert, was indeed dismissed. As if the whole thing had been nothing.

No.

No!

This couldn´t be. This should have happened differently. His plan. He had it all planned out, and now?

This wasn´t right. Could Valjean really be that arrogant, to think he would be safe now? But then … this would mean in turn, that everything Javert had done, would be for nothing. The lies, the man he had reported, his abuse of the law …

Javert could no longer stand it. He quickly took his leave, before he lost his senses.

**...**

He stayed awake, at the station-house, the entire night. Waited. Hoped. Even prayed for a change. For Jean Valjean to show up, and turn himself in. To ask them, beg them to send a man to Arras, where the trial against this Champmathieu was held, to put an end to it and tell them they were wrong.

But no one came. No note, no word, and no Valjean. The night went by, and as the morning dawned, Javert just knew that he had lost. That he had overestimated Valjean´s altruism after all. Upon asking for him at his home, they told him the mayor had left town the night before, on urgent business. Sure. Javert was probably the only one who knew just how urgent.

He couldn´t believe it. He had betrayed his principles, everything he had believed in, to catch this criminal, a man he had allowed to walk free for months before he´d started this insanity. Why? Why had he allowed this? Why had he done all this?

It didn´t matter. It was over. Valjean was gone, and now his life was over. He couldn´t stay in his position, knowing that a liar like him did not deserve this uniform. And in his desperation, a mental state that was overshadowed by a calmness that was close to self destruct, Javert did the only thing he knew would be right. He wrote a letter, to explain what he had done, to confess his lies and his deception and to resign from duty. For real this time.

He held the letter in his hand, and he felt dizzy. His life. This was his life. And it was over.

The knock on his door came from far away, and still he flinched. Sluggish, like a sleepwalker he opened it, and the young sergeant was so out of breath, he looked as if he would collapse right there in front of him.

Javert just stood there, heard the report, and all the while he felt like falling. What this man said was unbelievable. He had confessed, dear God, was that reality? It had to be or he would die, right here and now.

"Where is he now?" he asked, hearing his own voice as if it was spoken by another man. And the young man before him skipped back, in sudden fear.

"They told me … he said, you´d find him in the hospital."

The prostitute. Of course. That was where he´d find him. And that would be the last time that they met. One way or the other, this would end today.

**...**

The sun was setting, when he left his house and Javert, so pushed and energized just by the thought he might lose Valjean again, just ran ahead, not even waiting for his men. He didn´t even need a horse. He was much faster when he was by foot. The slowly settling darkness helped, and for a change he didn´t care to use this unholy gift.

When he reached the hospital, the golden light of evening was fading into gray. Soon it would be night. And his men, the backup he had ordered, would need another thirty minutes, at least, to get there. Which meant he´d face Valjean alone. He would arrest him, hold him, maybe even bring him to the station-house.

But if he lost it? If he would feel the hunger yet again, and couldn´t stop himself? What if he killed the man in a rush of bloodlust?  
>His rationally thinking mind was trying to demand an answer, was trying to warn him, to stop him before it was too late. But he couldn´t hear it. All he heard was the sound of blood in his ears, all he felt the delirious anticipation of finally getting to this point. Of finally reaching the climax of this race. He had him. He had him!<p>

The sickbed of the prostitute was right under the roof, he knew, and when he entered he was silent like a shadow. Neither Valjean nor his dying whore heard anything. They were so fully focused on each other, they´d never even heard the door. Javert just stood there, frozen to the ground. And watched. He felt like he´d become invisible. A ghost that only watched the living. But as it seemed she was much closer to the world of ghosts.

Her voice was broken, thin, and she was smiling when she died. Smiling about this promise he had made. Sometimes Valjean was better as a liar than as anything else.

He cried for her, and kissed her head as if her death actually meant something to him. Javert could still not move, or speak to break this silence. Until at last, Valjean glanced up at him, not startled or surprised at all. So he had known it after all. Of course he´d known.

"Valjean." he spoke, and in this silent room it felt like thunder. "At last. I always knew it was you."

Valjean said nothing, only looked at him, so grimly, as Javert stepped forward. And Javert could not resist the little smirk that stole itself upon his face.

"You must have known I knew you." he said. "Of course you knew. You are not stupid. And still you couldn´t resist to keep up the facade. To dare me, yet again. Like you always dared me. 24601."

"Before you say another word, Javert." the man who had pretended to be mayor cried. "Before you keep wallowing in your triumph. Listen to me. There is something I must do before you throw me back in prison."

Javert could feel the heat start boiling once again, as he stood there and watched Valjean rise to his feet.

"I promised her to take care of her child." he told him. "I only need three days, to keep my word."

Oh dear, was he serious with that? He really claimed to truly have meant this promise? Who did a thing like that? He tried to fool him, that was it. He tried to fool him.

"I will return, you have my word." Valjean began to plead, clearly aware Javert did not believe him. "You could come with me, watching me."  
>Javert just pulled his sword. This charade was over now.<p>

"I don´t know what drives you to do all these things, Valjean." Javert talked over him. "But this is over now. You´re coming with me. You´re going back to prison, where you belong."

"Please, Javert." Valjean skipped back. "In mercies name. It´s just three days. What is this after all these years?"

"It would be madness, nothing more. You think I went through all of this to let you bolt again? No. I will not lose this game again, you hear me?"

"What are you talking about? This is not a game."

"Indeed it isn´t." Javert would not slow down in his approach. And now even Valjean must see that he was serious. The man dodged sideways, to the wall, and before Javert could even comprehend, he held a weapon of his own.

"I won´t run, I said." he shouted. "I give you my word. I only want to …"

"Your word." Javert roared, preparing for an attack that might or might not come. "Monsieur le Mayor. You want me to trust _your_ word?"

"I´m not a liar, Javert."

"You are a criminal." Javert began to poke the beam, Valjean´s weapon. "And soon you will be chained again."

Valjean hit out, so angrily. Javert was starting to enjoy this.

"Far away from here." he taunted, trying to cause another strike. Yes, he thought. Attack. Give me a reason. "Where you can do no more harm."

"I was doing no more harm than you." Valjean was fending him, retrieving slowly. "I changed my life, since I left Toulon."

"Men like you can never change." Javert kept chasing him, down the hall. "No more than _I_ could ever change. You are a criminal."

"Stop calling me that!" and finally the strike Valjean sent out at him, was more than just defensive. Javert felt joy as he deflected it. Yet, still too easy. He began attacking, striking out much faster, and finally Valjean began to fight for real. He fended him, deflected with that beam as if it was a sword. Yes!

Javert stroke faster, challenged, and Valjean jumped sideways, unexpectedly. Javert got hit. Too light to seriously hurt him. What? Was he trying to mock him? On his butt?

No. Not like this, my friend. Come on now. Come again. Show me what you´ve got.

And as if Valjean had heard him, he attacked indeed. Much stronger now, yelling out for him, to better let him go, or he´d regret it. That the promise he had made was too important for him to give up just yet. And yes, Javert was sure that this was even true. He knew Valjean would not come like any other. That he would fight, until he died, if it was necessary.

"You´d rather kill me than accept that I could be an honest man." he heard him shout between all this. "Wouldn´t you? You never understood me, men like me, who had to fight in life for what they have. Men not born with privileges. I worked in honestly to where I´m now."

"What do you think _I_ did?" Javert shot back, and at last the fight was not as fun as it had been at first. He finished it, and quickly, when he saw a chance. Enough. "You know nothing of me." he snarled, pointing his sword at Valjean´s heart. "You think you know what a hard life is? What it means to be an outcast, to despise your heritage? You know nothing at all."

Valjean just stared at him, bewildered. And then he bolted, just like that, heading for the window in his back. Quickly. Very quickly. But he was not escaping from just anyone.

Javert was at him, barely a second later, just an inch before he reached the window, and threw him back, against the wall. The sword he´d dropped to grab Valjean, was only now hitting the ground, the only sound in this heavy silence. And that was when he realized what he had done. That he had lost it, and in plain sight of another man. This man.

"That´s impossible." Valjean stared at him in fear. "No human being is that fast."

Javert felt panic rising in his chest, and suppressed it. He pressed his arm against Valjean´s throat.

"You are under arrest." he hissed into his face. "24601."

But as it seemed, the fear of his arrest, was blown away. The only thing Javert could see now in his eyes, was fear of him, Javert. Uncertainty of something so unknown to him, he could only freeze now that he saw it. He reached up with his free hand, to grab Javert´s. But he did not – the way Javert expected – try to free himself, by opening his hand. Instead he seemed to feel for something, on his wrist, right beneath the glove.

"Your skin is ice cold." he found, and Javert recoiled in a sudden fear all of his own. As if Valjean had burned him with his words – and touch. And even though right now he´d have the chance to bolt at last, the only thing Valjean did was stare at him, wild eyed.

"What are you?" he asked, almost hypnotized, and Javert scowled at him, yet again.

"I´m the man that will bring you to justice. Now …"

"No."

"... you will come with me peacefully. Or I´ll use force."

"You could have … used force." Valjean was frowning. "Much more than you did. Couldn´t you?" The fear of this unknown mystery was still in his eyes. But unlike most other people, he wouldn´t turn away and run. Instead he seemed to search for it, trying to see it even closer. To understand. To make sure he didn´t dream.

"Have you always been like this?" he asked. And somehow this reaction, was scaring Javert, deep inside.

He hid it though. Of course he did.

"I don´t know what you´re talking about."

Valjean shook his head. "You do. You´re not … human." he frowned, deeply. "Are you?"

"You better stop talking, 24601." Javert was glaring. "Or I will …"

"I knew it." Valjean talked over him, as if the threat was not existing. "Ever since …" he stopped and started over. "I knew something was … different about you. I just never knew what."

And at those words, Javert began to try and read him too. The way Valjean was reading him. Regarding him so estimating. As if he could indeed find answers, just by looking at his face. And who knew. Maybe he could. If Javert would allow him to see something there. Only if he´d allow it. But what would he see? What?

"Are you scared, Valjean?" he asked, already anticipating the yes, hoping for it.

But once again Valjean would not obey the rules. He shook his head, as if unsure. But what he said, he said with certainty.

"No."

Javert was startled, almost shocked.

"I could kill you." he cried, almost accusing. "No one would even ask why a convict like you got killed resisting arrest."

"But you won´t." Valjean said way too calm to be normal, or healthy for that matter. "You could have killed me before. You had the strength to do it. But you didn´t. You don´t want to kill me."

Javert felt heat again, in his arms, his head, his eyes. Heat of pure rage.

"You have no idea what I want to do to you."

And finally, Valjean seemed not quite sure, what to respond anymore. "Where are your men?" he asked, from out of nowhere. "Did you come here all alone?"

"They´re on their way." Javert replied, quickly, but not convincingly enough.

"You didn´t wait for them? Isn´t that against regulation?"

"I couldn´t risk you getting away."

"So you ran ahead of them?" Valjean asked, and Javert did not like where he was going with that. "As fast as you ran after me just now?"

"You better shut up now." Javert grabbed his collar again. "Your game is over, Valjean."

And what Valjean did next was startling him more than every attack could have. He lay a hand over his fist, not hard and aggressive, but gentle and soft. And his eyes. He was seriously smiling.

"Then you´ll have to kill me, Javert." he said, and Javert´s breath stopped for a moment.

He looked at him, and he was shocked, at how much he wanted this. Right now, in this moment. He was so close. Too close. He even offered it to him. And just there, right underneath the skin, he could feel the warm blood, pulsing in Valjean´s veins, calling him to drive in his teeth and drink, just drink.

Javert began to panic. No. He hadn´t come here to allow this. He had fought it for so long. He couldn´t, mustn´t allow this now. He was no animal. If he would give in to this, Valjean would die. And the man that was Javert, would die right with him, both of them falling victim to this monster.

When he looked up, and met Valjean´s gaze, the man was tensed, but not necessarily scared. And after what felt like an eternity, he looked away from him, at something just behind Javert.

Javert swirled around, on instinct, ready to face whoever had just entered. Bu no one was there. No one.

A push shoved him away, and before he knew, the window was open and Valjean was gone. He had at last jumped out, escaped into the river. Javert ran after him, and stared at this dark surface underneath the window. Water. The river. Water!

Every thought of jumping after him, was gone this instant. The beating of his heart was fear now, fear of pure survival instinct. Even as the halfbreed that he was, he would not live if he had contact with this coldness down there. This water that could kill him, in a minute.

But just because Valjean had fled the building, did not mean that this night was over.

* * *

><p><strong>Some feedback anyone? I´d really appreciate it.<strong>


	6. Somewhere in the Dark

**Somewhere in the Dark**

When he stormed out of the front door his men had only just arrived.

"He jumped into the river!" he shouted at them. "Search for him! Quick! He mustn´t escape!"

He was around the corner before they even had time to react, but he once again stopped short, at the sight of the water before him. Dammit. Curse you, Valjean. As if he´d planned this. As if he´d known, that this was the only place where Javert couldn´t follow him.

The surface lay peacefully and open before him. The stream was not strong here, but strong enough to carry a man a long way, before he would either drown or manage it to reach the embankment again. And Javert was not sure what to expect.

Well, he´d get out again, of course. He was Valjean. Valjean would not simply drown. Who did Javert think he was? A weak bastard that overestimated himself? No such luck. His men could search the riverbank, up and down, the whole night if they wanted to. But they wouldn´t find him. Because he wasn´t here anymore. He was somewhere down this river. Javert knew it. He just knew it. And without realizing it, surely without telling his men, he started to run. Along the river, down the stream, following the course. Valjean. He´d reached the other side, somewhere down there. Much further down the river, where no police would ever think to look. Valjean.

Javert kept running, his heart hammering in his ears. Valjean. He wouldn´t escape into the night. He wouldn´t get away from him. Valjean. He could hear him. He could feel how close he was.

Instinct completely took over. He didn´t even realize that he went down to all fours, to run faster and faster, with wide jumps, like a cat in the dark, his feet and hands barely touching the ground. Never in his life had he ever felt so full of energy, so very much alive and free to do whatever he could, to take from whatever source his mind and body would provide, to get to what he wanted. To catch his prey and win this race. He was right there. Right there. Valjean. Valjean!

When the scent reached his nose, he stopped, feet sliding, too fast in his momentum. In the wet grass he almost passed the spot. Almost. For a moment he was crouching, like a tiger in the grass, ready for the jump. But jumping that far was impossible.

He smelled him, felt him, just on the other side, and unselfconsciously he rose, to stand again like any other man.

Valjean was there, he knew it, in the hoistway of a manhole. It vanished in the underground. But it was dark, too dark for him to see the man. Javert was certain though. He sensed him, almost heard his breath, felt his heat created by the tension and exhaustion. Somewhere over there, in the darkness.

"I know you´re there, Valjean!" he shouted over the river. "I can smell you!"

But there was no answer. Valjean was silent.

And yet Javert was sure, that he was glaring at him, over the water, just like Javert was glaring over at him. A silent staredown in the darkness, where none of them could see the other. And even though Javert had not the slightest chance to reach him, not over the whole width of the river, he felt his presence, as if he stood right there before him. As if the water wasn´t there, between them. But it was. It was.

"Valjean!"

The sensation of him got weaker, and weaker, fading out, and eventually he was gone. Vanished in the darkness of the manhole. Somewhere in the underground. And Javert was left behind, suddenly feeling as if he´d been pushed back to reality, after having left for another sphere, only for a minute.

"You can´t hide forever." he shouted, hopelessly. "I will find you! You hear me? Valjean!"

But of course Valjean was gone. And in his lack of any other option, Javert began to run again, back to the hospital, where his men still searched the riverbank, probably wondering where their inspector had gone. And when Javert reached them, barely out of breath, he swung himself on the nearest horse, without even caring to explain himself and just rode off.

**...**

He reached Valjean´s house, barely half an hour later. Still too late though. He had no idea how the man had managed it to get there before him, change clothes and vanish, before he even got there. And he surely didn´t know that Valjean was asking himself the exact same question.

Maybe he shouldn´t have taken the horse after all, Javert mused. He might have been faster if he had run instead. But it wasn´t over yet. It wasn´t too long ago that Valjean had been here. He could still smell him in the air. A few minutes, not more.

He ran back out, into the street. And there was the scent again. Still so clear in the night air. Still so strong. He knew where he had walked, and followed, through the streets, until he reached a plaza. Carriages stood there, waiting for a customer. And here he lost the scent.

Two spots between the carriages were unoccupied. Two cabs that had been taken, maybe only minutes ago. And the man sitting in one of them was still feeling the proverbial hot breath in his neck. Javert was not the only one feeling the thrill of the hunt. Valjean knew that Javert would follow, that the inspector, who was not a usual police inspector, would know exactly where he´d go. And that it was only a matter of time, a matter of only a few minutes headstart, until he´d catch up with him. And despite what he´d said to him in the hospital, Valjean was not sure anymore if he´d live, next time he came face to face with this man.

That was the reason why he couldn´t stop glancing out of the window, to keep an eye open for any police uniform, and it was also the only reason why he felt too nervous to drive directly into the town of Montfermeil. Because he actually _did_ spot a police man on the road.

He got out of the cab, just outside town. And even though he knew that the predator he´d seen today would not need the testimony of a cab driver to find his track again, it was an old habit to leave as little traces as possible.

He made his way through the woods. No one would see him on the road tonight. Javert was probably right behind him. If he wasn´t already there.

The woods were dark and deep, and there were sounds and shadows everywhere. Wind whistling in the trees, and every time and animal scattered away he jumped, believing to be caught after all. Did he really believe to be able to outrun a creature like Javert? It was virtually impossible. And yet, he had to try.

And that was the moment he heard a soft voice, cautiously singing …

**...**

André Thénardiere was not a man of many words. When the little human work animal came back in company of a man – and there were men sometimes who felt drawn to little girls – his first and only thought was, that maybe there was money in it for him.

She could barely hold up for work these days, and as a snack she was still too small. He´d get a few sips out of her, barely worth the effort. So if there should be any other use for her, he would be all for it. If the guy should ask.

Only this man seemed awfully familiar. He´d seen his face before, hadn´t he? Something about him made the predator in André stir. But he fought it down. People were still busy around them and he had no intention to have any trouble with the law.

The man offered generous money – for different reasons than he´d expected but what the hell? Why be nosy when a deal as good as this offered itself to him? It wasn´t important where he knew him from.

That´s at least what he thought. Until only a few minutes later. When Javert arrived – in a town three hours from where he lived – to ask for the girl, visibly ignoring his and his horse´s exhaustion. Then finally André remembered.

Javert didn´t sense them, until they stood before him. His mind was too set on the chase - he knew Valjean would seek out this place, if he was really stupid enough to risk and keep his promise to this prostitute – and he had never cared how or where these creatures lived anyway. So when his eyes got focused, the man stepping out of the shadow behind the woman, tall and silent as always, he just didn´t know what to say.  
>André.<p>

The woman by his side, his wife Desiré. How could that be? Them? How could such an impossible coincidence be?

André was not addressing him. Not this time. Javert would have expected him to smile, this bloody smile of his, and make a comment about him visiting the family. But he didn´t. And that alone had to mean something.

Desiré seemed humble too. Much more than he remembered her. But wondering about their strange behavior had to wait. For now.

Valjean. He had taken the child, and left before Javert arrived. Again. And the fact that this kid had been living with the Thénardiers, from all the people in the world, a family of vampyres who´d made a habit out of holding humans as their slaves, was more than just coincidence. It had to be.

Shanti and her talks of fate and destiny only crossed Javert´s mind for less than a second, before he urged himself on. Valjean could not be gone too long. He could still catch him. But he was tired and his horse would not carry him any further, not tonight.

He wasted precious time to get a new horse and while the owner saddled it, and made arrangements for the payment, Javert could feel that, just outside, Valjean had passed this very house. In another cab most likely. Yes, he was certain. He´d found his scent again, after he´d missed it the entire night. After he´d lost it in Montreuil. But now it was strong again.

Valjean had left the town. And there was only one way he could take. The road to Paris.

**...**

He found him at the North gate. The only gate Valjean could come through, taking the road from Montfermeil. But it wasn´t easy. He was one of many. The season of much traveling. A lot of people passed this gate.

The fact that an inspector held authority, no matter where he was, gave him the chance to watch undisturbed, while the Paris guards checked all the cabs. He waited, feeling for changes in the air, to find the scent he knew so well. Please. I know he´s here. I know I didn´t miss him, not this time. This time I´ll catch him. This time I´ll win.

And then he felt it. Somewhere down the line of carriages. A scent so faint he almost overlooked it. The horse beneath him started dancing, infected by his eagerness. Yes, he thought. He´s there. Somewhere. He could feel him. Sense him. And any moment now he´d see him.

If it only wasn´t that dark. Javert cursed, inwardly, about this inconvenience. Somewhere over there, he was sure he´d seen a movement. Just for a second, before darkness had swallowed everything.

And then all the sudden, his vision changed. The blackness of the night went wider. It wasn´t brighter now but somehow he could see, as if a veil had been lifted and the night had chosen to reveal its secrets. But only to him. Only to him.

The guards were checking yet another carriage. And somewhere in the distance, Javert could see a person running. No. Two. A man and on his hand, a little child.

Javert was speechless for a moment, so speechless he only stared and watched almost until they vanished out of sight. When he saw the man lift up the child, to a hole in the wall, he suddenly woke up from his amazement.

"Valjean!" he shouted, startling the men around him. But it was Jean Valjean´s reaction that triggered Javert to finally give chase.

He didn´t care where he was riding. All he did was following his senses. The scent that led him, to wherever he would find him. Valjean. He was so close. Just another street, just behind this wall. Any time he dodged a corner he could have run right into a dead end, he knew. Because he didn´t think. He didn´t know these streets. But the voice inside of him did. He wouldn´t lose the way, he knew where he must go. Blindly following his instinct, he was seeing clearer than ever before in his entire life.

He reached a gate, and steered his horse right through it. A yard, silent and abandoned. Columns scarcely lit by lanterns. A convent. And then he saw him. Both of them. Running.

"Valjean!"

He rode inside. Nothing any other person would have dared to do. A place of God, to never be disturbed. But right now Javert would have raced right through a church, while the priest was talking to the people if he´d seen Valjean escape that way.

He saw him, smelled him, sensed him with his very mind. The horse was way too slow. He wanted off it, run afoot. Valjean escaped, over a parapet, somewhere where the horse couldn´t follow.

"24601!"

Javert yanked the horse around. And of course Valjean kept running. Somewhere in the back of the yard, Javert finally abandoned the horse. Valjean was trying to escape through narrow passageways. He smelled him in there, felt his presence. He´d find him. He couldn´t miss him. The heat. He was right there.

The hunter chased his prey. In the darkness, only relying on his instinct. The scent, the will to catch and feed, following the warmth of the blood. He´d find him, right behind this corner. Was that a gasp he heard?

Javert sped up, found a gate, but it was locked. Valjean had been here. Just a moment ago. There. The scent went that way.

His nostrils widened, taking in the scent each step he made. A never known experience. The feeling of the hunt, so exhilarating, so levying. Soon. It got stronger. Soon.

A narrow passageway. He came through here. He just came through here! The corner. He had to be right there, behind it. Javert sped up, ready to jump as soon as he saw him. He had him. He had him! NOW!

He ran into a dead end. Only walls, no other passageway, no matter how narrow. No way out. Except over the wall. And that was where he felt him. Up there, probably lying on the wall, hoping he would walk away, believing he was gone. But not him. Not him.

Javert took some steps back, his heart beating faster. Only one more leap. He knew he could do it. He knew, and didn´t doubt a second. Now. Just one more leap and he´d be his.

"Inspector!" someone cried, and two men came running. His backup. Now that he didn´t need, didn´t want them here.

"Inspector, we searched the place." the sergeant told him. "There´s no one here."

Javert cursed under his breath. His drive was gone. He couldn´t do it. Not in front of everyone. He simply couldn´t. And he was still up there. Still hiding. With the girl.

"Valjean!"

No answer. Only silence. Of course.

**...**

He was accommodated for the night, ordered to rest and let the Paris guards continue searching. And Javert obeyed. He knew Valjean was gone, that no one else but him would even have a chance to find his track again. And maybe it was good that way.

His goal had been to get rid of him. And he had managed that. And even though it hadn´t been by his arrest, he´d done what he could. He´d stayed true to his vow, had done his duty. And now it was over. Valjean was clever, he wouldn´t return. Case closed.

So why, by everything that was good in the world, did Javert not feel relieved? Why did he still feel restless? Why did he still want to get out there, and continue the hunt? He was out there, in the darkness. Still running. Running from him. Him.

The blood in Javert´s veins boiled just thinking of it. He wanted to hunt. But not just anyone. Valjean. The only one he ever wanted to kill, to drink his blood. Valjean. His human prey.

Stop this. Stop thinking of this. It´s madness. It´s not you. You aren´t like this. You never were.

And yet, it wouldn´t stop. Not in that night and not the following. Not even daylight could calm this monster, this urge to keep it up, until he´d find his scent again. Why? This was what he´d wanted. To have him gone. Why couldn´t he let go?

Maybe it was coincidence, that Shanti had her home in Paris – Javert refused to think of it as fate – but she knew those things, had talked about it and if anyone could give him answers, it had to be this woman. And, right now, he desperately needed to talk to someone, anyone. Why not her? At least she had been friendly.

When she opened the door, her dark eyes met him from behind a veil of dark exotic cloth. A strange tradition for those who didn´t know. Simple protection for those who did. The sun was shining brightly on this day.

"Dear God, Javert." she cried and he could not stop cringing at the name of God, spoken from an undead creature like her. "What´s the matter?" she asked, and urged him in, where light was dimmer and much easier to stand. "Did I commit a crime or something?"

"Not yet." he growled. "But if you ever tell to anyone, that I was here, and what I´ve spoken, I swear to you, I will arrest you. I´ll make up charges, anything, and throw you in the deepest hole. A hole you´ll never come back out again, the rest of your unholy eternal life."

"Dear boy." she revealed her smiling face to him. "Are you in love at last?"

Javert began to boil in sudden anger. "This is about a man, you foolish woman. A man I want to kill, so stop guessing ridiculous things you do not understand."

Shanti´s smile was still not gone, so full of peaceful calmness. "Then why do you come to me?" she asked.

"Because you talked about …" he stopped himself. "Things. Things I do not understand. Things that come with the heritage of the vampyres. All this mystical … magic mambo jumbo. I need you to explain to me, what all this really is. So I can stop feeling the need to kill this man."

"My dear son …"

"Don´t call me that."

"There are certain things you cannot know. You need to understand …" she seemed reluctant to speak to him what she thought, but eventually she did. "You´re torn. Many halfborn suffer from that. Of course. It has never been easy to be born between two worlds, not knowing which of both is yours. You, Antoine, are an especially hard case. You despise the vampyre side of yourself, but you deny yourself to be a part of the human realm as well." she glanced at him, shaking her head. "Why is that, I wonder. What are you afraid of?"

"You seem to miss the point." Javert spoke through gritted teeth. "I asked you how I can stop myself from killing a man. Not how to find my place in life. I found my place in life."

"No, you haven´t." she objected, mildly. "You´re struggling."

"I don´t need therapy from you." he snapped. "I´m warning you, Shanti. Don´t try to mock me."

"I don´t." her calmness was not shaken by his threats. "I want to help you understand."

"Then tell me how I make this stop."

"You can´t." she almost sounded apologetic. "Not ever. It´s a part of you."

"And I am cursing the fact that this is true." he turned around, away from her. God, why had he even come here?

"You shouldn´t, Antoine." her voice was sad. "What you despise so much, is nothing but another form of life."

"It´s death. No more no less. And it´s unholy, against God."

"Without it you would not be able to survive."

"You think I don´t know that?" he swirled back around to her. "Why do you think I sneak into the stables at night, when I can´t deny this unholy desire any longer? Why do you think I hide away from others, just in case my appetite should transform into something even more uncontrollable? Why do you think I´m so concerned I could in fact kill this man, in a rush of bloodlust? Not because I care so much about him. No. But if I would allow myself to be overtaken by this, I would become a monster. Just like you and your godforsaken kind."

"Who is this man you talk about?" she asked him after a moment of silence. "What is he to you? Is he the one who gave you the rosary you carried once?"

Javert had to restrain himself, from an urge he couldn´t even explain. An urge that was caused by her questions. Questions that aimed too deep for comfort.

"He´s a criminal." he forced out the answer. "A fugitive. The worst kind of thief and liar. I must arrest him, not _kill_ him." he took a breath. "And yet I want to. I always wanted to … tear him apart, drink his blood. Just …" The urge was there again, from the thought alone, and Javert simply couldn´t continue.

Shanti smiled, unnoticeable. "I see."

"What´s so funny?" he felt how rage took over, seeing her mocking smile, but his glare seemed to do nothing to stop her.

"I´m afraid, my dear." she said. "That this longing you have recently discovered, is nothing that will go away. Except you really kill this man."

"Never. I´m not an animal."

She nodded. "I don´t think that would stop it anyway."

"You just said …"

"I wasn´t finished. I´m afraid what you are suffering from is not to be cured, not even by this man´s death."

"What are you even talking about?"

"The chain, Javert. Do you remember what I told you? At the gathering?"

"How could I forget? Your fairy tales. This is life, woman. Not a fantasy. Things like that just don´t exist."

"They do, Javert. For us they do. And especially for halfborn just as you. For it is our second half that finds us through this chain. And you, Antoine, are torn in half already by your birth. You need another one more than anyone else. Just to be whole again."

Javert could only stare at her, in disbelieve. "I´m not in love with a man." he cried. "Are you crazy?"

"I´m not talking about love." she told him, completely calm, conviction sounding in her voice. "I´m talking about a connection that goes even deeper. It can be made of love, just as well as it could be made of hate. Friendship." she shrugged. "Only you know which one it is for you. A certain need that we have in life. Whatever it is we need so desperately. It crosses time, space and even death, and still it won´t end. It never ends. It stays with us, for as long as we exist, be it in this life or the next. No matter how many of them we live."

"Ah." he made, mocking her back at last. "I see. Your reborn man. Is he here now? Did you finally turn him?" he looked around for a moment, in false searching. "Oh, I forgot." he eventually broke the facade. "He´s nothing but a dream. Something born from a dark lonely mind. Kind. But lost, like all the others."

"And what do you think you are, Antoine?" she asked him, almost too sad to stand her gaze. "You think you are found? That you found yourself, by denying yourself to belong to either side? You will never belong, not until you seal this chain."

"With Valjean?" he laughed. "With a criminal? What do you think you know, Shanti? What?"

"I know that love never dies." her voice was strong, even while she was choking. "Even if we try to kill it. And this chain is never our choice. It finds us. It found us a long time ago, long before we could remember. In another life maybe. Maybe before we were born the first time."

Javert looked at her, nodding, before he turned away. "It was a mistake to come here." he decided. "I wanted an explanation, not a fairy tale."

"I gave you what you wanted, Antoine." she insisted. "I told you what you need to know. Now it is up to you, to make the right decision."

"Making the right decision is not my best these days it seems. I thought it was a good decision to come here."

"Take my advice, son. Find out what you need from him. What only he could ever give to you. Then maybe you´ll understand at last what this chain is made of."

Javert glared at her and went back one last time. "I told you to never call me that." he growled. "Creature." And with that he left at last.

**...**

The horse skipped back, when Javert approached it, eyes widening in fear when it felt his intentions. The intentions of a predator. He was barely able to calm it down, for his need was too high, too immediate, and the animal felt this. God, he needed blood, as fast.

He didn´t know how he managed it at last to calm himself, but eventually the horse believed him, and drowsed off. He went down, his heart beating, way too fast. Again the horse skipped, but Javert drove his teeth in, just above the hoof, before it could move. He drank, creedily, and so much faster than he´d ever drunk before. As if he´d been starving.

Warm, thick blood ran down his throat, spilling out of his mouth, at the corners, as he sucked out much more than he could take at once. Still he couldn´t stop. He needed, so desperately. His body and mind were craving, if not for the blood then for something else. But the blood was good. Good enough to feed this need, whatever it was, that wouldn´t let him go.

Eventually, when he couldn´t possibly drink any more, he let go of the horse, slowly raising to his feet. The horse beside him was drowsing by now, not caring anymore when he left the stable. No one cared. No one had noticed. The next day someone would notice the dried blood on the horse´s hoof and inspect it, only to find that there was no severe injury. Other than that this night would have never happened, as far as the world was concerned.

But what did the world know?


	7. Paris

**Paris**

The monster fell asleep after that night. It went back into its cage, rolled itself together and just slept. It had been satisfied, at least for the moment. The blood Javert had given to it, had not been Valjean´s but it had fooled the nocturnal thing. And now that Valjean was gone, it might stay that way.

After that Javert´s senses felt numb, as if the dark had given him this ability to sense the presence of his prey, but only once. For one night he´d been a better hunter, had been more, and so much stronger than ever before. But when he failed to catch his prey, this strength was taken from him. Like a demotion. Whoever doesn´t prove worthy, will not be granted such powers.

Only … Javert had never wanted them. These powers were his father´s heritage, and he wouldn´t want to be part of it. He wanted to go back to his life, do his duty, and prove himself a better person. A man of honor and responsibility. A human being.

For almost a decade, Javert managed it to forget. It almost was as if the night of the hunter had never happened. Until, one day, a letter came to him, talking about promotion.

**...**

It was the most ironic trick of fate, that the first person he ran into, in Paris, was Thénardier. He walked home from duty in the twilight of the dusk, his first two days on this new post behind him like he´d walked in a dream. And then his nightmare came to bid him welcome.

He came from out of nowhere, and for a moment, Javert believed to see Valjean in this shape that stepped up to him. As if Valjean would ever be stupid enough to approach _him_.

It had crossed his mind, when he´d received the promotion. After all, it had been in Paris where he´d seen them last. Valjean and the child. But no. This man was not an idiot. Sure he´d left Paris by now. He would have left it years ago. No danger of them running into each other, and maybe start the whole thing anew. No reason for Javert to turn down this one in a lifetime chance.

Inspector in Paris. The capital of crime. And obviously magnet to all sorts of scum.

"Now lookie who we have here." Thénardier spoke. "Look who finally came home to us."

"You." Javert growled. "What are you doing here?"

"What am _I_ doing here?" the revenant mocked the question. "I came to welcome you." And with that he performed an elegant bow, as if he wanted to ask a lady to dance. "Welcome to Paris, Monsieur."

Javert narrowed his eyes. "I should have known that you are here. No one else radiates such a thick cloud of mental stench."

"Oh, that hurts. If I didn´t know any better, I´d take that personally."

"What do you want from me? I have nothing to say to you."

"Aw. You sure about that? Come on, Antoine, you can talk to me. We´re one of a kind."

Javert simply shoved him out of his way. "And I´ll do better forgetting that, if I won´t have to see you." he said. "Stay away from me, you hear me? Or I will make it my life´s goal to catch you in the act one day, committing one of your petty crimes. Don´t think I don´t know what you´re doing. If you ever try one of those actions again like that day in Montreuil …" he shook his head thinking back on it. "Using your own daughter as a bloodhound."

André only shrugged. "The kid has talent. Would be a waste not to use it."

"If I had had evidence against you back then, I would have thrown you in jail." Javert hissed. "It was your luck that …"

"What? That this man was a criminal that had betrayed more men than just _me_ of my money? It helped a bit making your decision easier, I guess."

Javert didn´t give a response, only narrowed his eyes and the smug killer smiled, cockily.  
>"There is no prey for you here." Javert growled. "Don´t even think of leaving a dead body on my doorstep. This time I won´t look the other way."<p>

"Oh, come on. What´s one beggar less in the streets? Or maybe … a skinny old whore."

Javert felt chills as memory came back to him. Especially since André was obviously still thinking of her. She´d been nothing but an animal to him. Her daughter merely good enough as a slave girl, sold for money when he had the chance to gain more from her. If Valjean hadn´t taken her away, André might have eaten her someday, just because she would have lost all other value for him. And still he found it worth remembering. Why?

"You haven´t changed at all in those years." he growled at last. "No one ever does."

Thénardier only smiled, yet again. "One day, Antoine. You will notice that the path you´ve chosen, might be righteous … but very lonely." he shook his head in mocking sympathy. "Why do you do that to yourself? You could come to us. Come to our table and join the family."

"I´d rather join the family of some street rats, than to be associated with something like you." Javert rasped but got no answer. "Don´t you ever dare to approach me again." he warned him at last. "I don´t want people to see me with you."

When he walked away, André did not try to follow him. But that didn´t mean he was rid of this bug.

**...**

Maybe he should have arrested him back in Montreuil, Javert mused. The only reason why he hadn´t done it had been his distant connection to the family, not lack of evidence. Lack of evidence could be made up for. But not cowardice. Javert´s cowardice. God, how he hated it that this simple fact of his birth could make him so weak.

It made no difference. He´d had long given up the hope that arrests like these made any difference at all. André was the sort of vermin that would get out again and again. The world was rotten, and men like him, Javert, could only do so much to keep it from completely going to hell.

But sometimes it was good enough, and he could go to sleep at night, and feel that it had been worth it. On days when he arrested a mugger before he could harm the two fragile girls in an old woman´s care. On days when he stopped a lose fiacre, and took the drunken driver off his seat before he could run over a bunch of playing kids. On days when he found the hideout of a thief who had stolen from a lot of small businessman for over a month, most of the stolen goods returned to these people, who only tried to do decent work to feed their families.

It wasn´t useless all the time. Sometimes it was good what he could do. And Javert kept holding on to these rare examples. They were the reason why he kept it up, and still walked the streets each day. Why he responded to every call, no matter how minor it seemed, even if it would turn out to be a false alarm. Even if it was the cry of a girl, warning someone of _him._

Now that was interesting.

He spotted the person who´d called out, and his heart just about stopped for a second. Dear God, she had grown. Last time he´d seen her she´d been a kid of maybe ten, eleven years. Her eyes, still so dark they betrayed her revenant heritage, met his and she skipped back into the shadow. Not because of the sunlight. It was a cloudy day. No, the reason was most likely what went on behind her, in the street.

Javert felt joy all the sudden upon seeing André committing one of his petty little crimes. All in the open, for everyone to see. He had him. This time this pathetic vampyre had chosen the wrong man as his victim so it seemed. Someone who put up a fight, and didn´t hand over the purse just like that. Javert almost laughed. Well, with a witness willing to testify this would be a simple case. And even if André only went to prison for a little while, it would still be worth it.

A kid ran into him, trying to get away and Javert grabbed it, instinctively. A boy. Unknown to him. But the eyes were familiar. Too familiar. A family meeting just fitting for André.

Javert handed the little vampyre to one of his men, and turned his attention back to the squall. I´ve got you André. This time I´ve got you.

The gentleman seemed more concerned about his daughter, so Javert dismissed him, in favor for Thénardier. Only for a moment he noticed a faint smell in the air. Strange aftershave this man was using.

André and his gang – his little bastard family – were lined up for him, waiting for their sentence. And it was like a gift from God. Let´s see how you explain to me what happened here … friend.

"Look look, what a fine collection." he spoke, and faced the leader of this bunch of vermin. "I told you I´d catch you in the act." he rasped, only for him to hear. And seeing André´s humble silence, he couldn´t help but smiled. I´ve got you.

"What happened here, sir?" he turned back around, to face the elderly gentleman, ready to receive the last piece of evidence to finally put this maggot behind bars. "I assume this man and his gang …"

But the man he wanted to address was gone. What the hell? He´d been here only a second ago.

"Where did they go?" he asked his men but none of them seemed to have noticed anything. "You are supposed to _watch_ the witnesses."

A faint chuckle reached his ear, and he turned around, to see André smirking. "You´ll have quite a job to find this man." he spoke, quietly, faking humbleness. "You know him, don´t you? A man hard to find among so many others. Not always what he appears to be. And on top of this, he draws behind a girl he once stole from me."

"Yeah, and me." Desiré insisted on irritating him with her interjection, throwing him completely off balance.

This smell. From before. Javert suddenly had the time and mind to place it. Dear God. It was him. Him!

He swirled around, knowing that of course he wouldn´t find him anymore. He was gone. The moment he´d seen him, heard his name from Eponine´s mouth, he´d run. Dear God. So he was still here. Still in Paris. And André …

Javert turned back to him. "What did you do?" he demanded to know, but André would not be intimidated. His humble behavior was pure show for all the others around. Only Javert could see the truth.

"I didn´t do anything." André answered, quietly, hunching. "Do you see a victim here? Inspector?"

Javert walked in on him, threateningly. "I told you not to try anything." he spoke, but only got a chuckle.

"I must say … inspector. I was surprised. I always thought you talked about a woman … back then. But this … I mean …" he laughed, raising both hands. "No judgment here. But really … it is telling for your character."

Once again Javert inched closer, his nose almost touching André´s. "I should just throw you in a cell." he rasped. "The both of you."

"I´d like to see you try." the revenant smiled at him, confidently. "Why don´t we just skip the small talk? Let´s not mince words with something that is obviously so important for both of us."

"Both of us."

André nodded, his gaze so intense. "I´d like to have a taste of his blood." he whispered, and waited, for Javert´s reaction. The other officer´s were visibly trying to figure out what the two of them were talking so long, but Javert would do hell and explain himself to them. Neither would he give André the satisfaction of an answer to his teasing.

"And?" André poked, expectantly.

"And?" Javert repeated, as if he didn´t even understand the question.

André smiled. "Will you stop me? That is … try to stop me. Because …" he laughed. "We both know you couldn´t ever, even if you wanted to."

Javert gave him a deadly glare. "If you only want to challenge me, I hope you´re up for a fight."

When André smiled at him this time, he seemed satisfied with what he saw. As if this was exactly what he´d wanted to hear.

"I´d never fight you … brother. What must you think of me?"

Javert checked on his men. Brother! If they had heard this word from a criminal´s mouth. But they didn´t seem as if they had. Not yet. But if he´d say it again … It was time to end this.

His eyes met Desiré´s, only for a second, by pure coincidence, and there was something in her eyes that was just irritating. As if she was lurking, all this time. And Javert realized that she´d been watching him and her husband ever since this had started. Like a hungry snake, waiting for the moment to snap. Now that her gaze had caught him it seemed even hungrier.

She looked as if she was ready to jump on him right here in the streets, in front of everyone. Only he wasn´t sure if she would do him or kill him. Or if there´d be a difference between the two possibilities for her at all.

"All right, everybody." he spoke loud for everyone to hear and by now it was a mean of literal escape. "The show is over. Everyone about your business, there is nothing to be seen here."

He gave André one last glare. "Leave this city. And stay out of my life."

"We both know this isn´t gonna happen." André replied when Javert turned away from him. And as if it was an afterthought, he asked: "So you will let me have my snack?"

Javert stopped sharp and glared at him, over his shoulder, warningly. No dead bodies I said. None at all. But all André did was smile.

**...**

When Javert went out this night, he didn´t do so with the intention to seek out Valjean. Even though he knew he should issue the manhunt for him the official way – he was sure after all that a wanted fugitive was hiding somewhere in the city, probably under a false name – but he also knew that if they´d find him now, he would have a lot of explaining to do. Of how he could have known, of his own association with the criminal, or maybe even worse.

No. He couldn´t explain any of this. Not without giving himself away. And right now he simply lacked the time for official covers. He needed to find him before someone else did.

It was a joke of fate. Years ago he´d tried to keep Valjean from getting killed, by a monster. Now … well, technically the same. Only this time not _he_ was the monster. This time it was André. A monster far worse than he was. Because André was proud of being one.

Javert went back to the street, where he´d seen him last. Or rather … sensed him. The scent was still there. This time he didn´t have to look for it long. It was so easy, almost too easy to activate his abilities. Those senses of the nightwalker that he´d suppressed for all those years, trying to pretend he didn´t have them, that he was not one of them. Now he needed them, and fast.

He followed the scent through the streets. Above, Javert could see the full moon, surrounded by dozens and dozens of stars, lightening his way. And then at last he found the place. A house he could see through an artful metal gate, shielding a beautiful garden from the street. And a girl in the shadows, watching this house.

Javert´s nostrils flared as he recognized her.

"What are you doing here?" he snarled, swirling her around almost brutally, and Eponine´s eyes widened in surprise.

"Nothing." she claimed, trying to wind her arm out of his grip.

"You want to tell me that you being here, at this house, is total coincidence?" he hissed, not letting go.

"What do you mean? Let go of me."

He didn´t. "Your father hunts a man. And he sends out his bloodhound to find his prey for him. Just as always."

For a moment she seemed insulted at the suggestion. "I´m not here because my father ordered me."

"Then why?" he still wouldn´t let go. She would give him an answer. "Who sent you here?"

"Marius." she almost spat the word into his face, so defiant even in his presence.

Javert frowned. "Who´s Marius?"

And at this her anger suddenly subsided, vanishing under something that could have been shame. Or embarrassment.

"A friend." she said, avoiding his gaze. "He asked me to find her."

Javert´s eyes found the house again, and a part of him started to guess something.

"Is he one of us?" he wanted to know.

Eponine´s eyes remained on the ground. "No."

Strange. Javert was confused more and more as the interrogation continued. "What´s in it for you?" he asked, but she would still not look up.

"Nothing." her voice was breaking.

"Then why are you doing this?"

Javert didn´t understand her. She was so obviously in love with this boy, whoever he was – a human, dear God, if André knew – and he seriously asked _her_ to find another girl for him? Why on earth should she even agree? Why did she do that? It didn´t make any sense. Even for someone like him, who had no experience with such things, it sounded crazy.

Eponine seemed to see it differently. At his question, she raised her head, finally looking at him, and her dark eyes were flashing with anger. She didn´t need to say anything. Her gaze said it all.

In the end he let go of her. She had her own issues to deal with, as it seemed and he didn´t need her´s on top of his.

"Your father really doesn´t know you´re here?" he asked for one last confirmation, but he already knew the answer, even before she shook her head. What he didn´t like though, was the frown between her brows.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she asked, and he simply scowled, stepping back.

"My job."

And with that he turned away from her, finally heading for the house. He could hear her steps, attempting to follow and stopped her by a simple glance back.

"Go home, Ponine." he told her. "Tell your boyfriend where he´ll find his future bride if you want. But stay out of my business."

The girl, much smarter than her father, stepped back, intimidated. And Javert was grateful for that.

"If you really love this boy …" he said, before he left her. "Don´t ever let your father know about him. Just a friendly advice."

She didn´t answer, but he could see in her face that she knew why he´d said it. When he turned around this time, she didn´t follow.


	8. Are you Afraid of Death

**This scene is one of three that were most important to me. The first one was the confrontation (of course). The third one is yet to come so I won´t speak of it. But those scenes are the reason why I wrote everything beforehand in the first place. And man each of them was worth waiting for.**

**Just thought I share this fact.  
><strong>

**And now enjoy ...**

* * *

><p><strong>Are you Afraid of Death?<br>**

Javert went to the gate, peeking through the garden. He saw light there. And the voice of a girl from an open window, speaking quietly, probably to herself. But she did it in a way as if she was telling her thoughts to someone that was there, just silent and not responding. God? Was she talking in her prayer? Javert had heard people do that. It still sounded creepy somehow.

Says the vampyre who stalks a strange house in the middle of the night.

Half vampyre!

A shadow was moving in this room, and when the girl came to the window, Javert quickly hid, behind the wall.

Come on now. You came here for a reason. So stand up to your word and get on with.

He looked up, inspecting the wall, its height, its grip and state, the width of the street, and took a few steps back, for a quick running start. He halted, collecting his energy, just the way he´d done it eight years ago, when he´d known Valjean was hiding at the top of this wall of the convent. Only this time there was no lower police man coming along to disturb him. This time he ran, swiftly, and jumped, so easily.

If he´d had time to take notice of this, he would have known that an outsider would have seen a shadowy figure, moving soundlessly, like a ghost. This outsider might have believed to dream, or imagine this, because no human being would ever be able to move like that. But Javert didn´t take notice of such things. All his attention was on the garden behind the wall.

For a moment he cowered there, checking if anyone, inside or out, had noticed him. No one had.

He jumped down, silently landing between trees and flowery bushes. A few butterflies were startled off the ground, but that was the only reaction he caused. No one and nothing knew he was here.

The girl was still at her window, smiling to herself, talking about love and a world she wanted to see, preferably with this boy she´d fallen in love with. God, youth had such a beautiful ignorance concerning reality. And for a moment Javert pitied Eponine, the poor thing, who even supported such blindness.

And then the girl suddenly halted, stopping to speak, and turned around. Javert tensed. Someone had entered her room. He could feel his presence over there, with her, even before he heard him speak. This voice was unmistakable.

Valjean!

He´d found him. At last. After all these years. And for a moment Javert halted, listening inside himself, waiting for this feeling of bloodlust that he remembered from the last time he´d encountered this man. It didn´t come. Still his heart was racing. In anticipation. A part of him was still the hunter, and the hunter had just found his prey.

A movement at the window caught his attention, and then he saw him.

Valjean!

He glanced out, and Javert hid, quietly, skipping further behind the tree, into the shadow. Valjean didn´t see him. He only closed the window, a shadow of concern covering his features. And Javert frowned.

The shades were closed now, but he knew they were still there. Quickly he made his way through the garden, and snuck along the wall, to the side of the window. He could still hear them. She was asking questions. Questions he was unwilling to answer. Her voice was louder than his, more demanding, until at last he spoke up, with the authority of a father, demanding an end to this talk.

After that their voices trailed off. They left the room, and Javert cursed. He could not understand anymore. And he needed to get in there somehow. So he went around the house, feeling, sensing. Until he felt, at some random point, that this was where Valjean had stopped. As if he could reach through the wall, and touch him, just like this. But of course he couldn´t. This damn wall was still in his way, and the room, whatever it was, had no window.

He needed a way to get in there. And he found it around the next corner. The kitchen window, open, just a crack. Enough to reach in and open it for good.

He was inside as smoothly as he´d climbed over the wall into the garden. The night, once again enhanced his agility and swiftness, and when he walked through the kitchen his feet barely made a sound. He could hear the girl pass by the door, as he stopped and listened. She didn´t attempt to enter the kitchen, went straight to the backdoor, out into the garden. And Valjean. He was still alone, still in this tiny chamber he called his bedroom. Javert saw him sit on the bed, hands folded, a deep frown between his brows.

The vampyre left the kitchen and silently approached, soundless like a shadow. A ghost. Valjean was too deep in thought to notice.

At the door he stopped. He didn´t enter, just stood there, as if speaking up would be a violation of this moment his old prey had to himself. Silly. Why should he care?

Eventually Valjean turned his head, startled out of his musing, and his eyes met Javert´s straight on. Javert still didn´t say anything. Not while Valjean´s eyes grew wide, not when he jumped up, staring at him in pure horror. But when his eyes darted past him, to the backdoor, Javert did speak.

"Keep your voice down." he ordered. "Or she´ll notice."

The man in this little chamber that offered no way of escape at all, only stared at him, pale and frozen in his place. Javert could smell his fear.

"This is not a dream." Valjean breathed, as if he needed to convince himself of this fact. And Javert couldn´t help. He chuckled, dryly.

"You´ve dreamed about this?" he asked, and took a step into the room. "Foolish old man."

"Please." Valjean gasped, but other than his voice there was nothing about him that betrayed his fear. "I´m prepared for this day. But I need to arrange some things. For Cosette. Please."

Javert raised a brow. "Three days?" he offered. "Is that about right?"

Valjean shook his head, pleadingly. "Javert."

"Shut up." the inspector hissed, and closed the door, firmly. "You have no idea why I´m here."

Again there was fear in Valjean´s gaze. The tiny flames of the candles were the only light on his face, ridiculously dark. And yet Javert could see everything. Every wrinkle, every hair of his brows, every bead of sweat slowly spreading on his forehead.

"Why _are_ you here?" the man asked, his voice barely a whisper.

But this was the only question Javert could not answer. Why was he here? He wished he knew.

So instead of giving him an answer, he simply glared at him, something he knew how to do, and walked in on him, threateningly. Also something familiar. Good old routines. Reliable even in situations like this.

Valjean skipped back, only a bit. The limited space of this tiny room might have something to do with it. But then again. Why did Javert not believe that this was the only reason?

"Are you afraid, Valjean?" he asked him. "Do you fear for your life?"

Valjean gulped, but didn´t answer.

"You should."

"Please, Javert. Whatever it is you want to do to me. Make it quick."

Javert could only snort. "There is no quick way."

"Just …" Valjean shook his head. "Don´t let Cosette see it. Please. She doesn´t know. Anything. Neither about me … or you."

Javert narrowed his eyes, regarding him closely. "But you do." he said, not really a question. "Don´t you?"

Valjean nodded, his breath still shaking. "I always knew." he said. "It got harder to believe over the years. A part of me wanted to believe I dreamed it. Or imagined it." He shook his head. "But I knew … that I didn´t. That I really saw you do these things."

Javert stared at this man, unable to believe what he heard, barely able to control this screaming in his head. "And you kept quiet?" he hissed, almost accusing. "Why?"

And somehow this reaction of him, that just had to look so much wilder and madder than everything before, seemed to calm Valjean. He simply shrugged, shaking his head. "Who should I have told?" he asked. "Who would have believed me? _Me._"

"You could have denounced me anonymously. Writing a letter to the prefecture …"

"Seriously?" Valjean chuckled, amused. "They would have believed an anonymous letter claiming something like _that_?"

Javert halted, his heart skipping a beat. Now _he_ was afraid. "Something like … what?" he asked, and when he got no response, he demanded: "Say it, Valjean. Say it out loud. I want to hear it from you."

Valjean took a breath, never leaving his eyes. "The books call it vampyrism. And by now I´m sure that this is … what you are." he sighed, deeply. "Am I right?"

Javert felt his blood run cold, colder even than usually, and he skipped back.

"How can you not be afraid?" he heard himself ask. "You know what I could do to you."

But all Valjean did was smile, lightly, as if this was of no concern to him. "I sold my soul to God a long time ago." he said. "There is nothing that I could lose. Even if you´d kill me."

Javert glared at him, and was at him before he knew what he was doing. "So you seriously believe that God will protect you from me?" he growled, his hand on the other man´s collar, but somehow failed to intimidate. Even though Valjean pressed his head against the wall, more startled than afraid.

"No." he answered, honestly. "But I think we both know that if you really wanted to kill me, I´d be dead by now."

Javert´s nostrils flared at the deep breath he had to take in, in order to control his temper. He only managed to breath in his scent again. The scent that sparked his hunger.

"I want to." he informed Valjean. "I want to kill you. So … much."

Valjean´s breath itched, but only for a second, before he calmed himself again. "But you didn´t." he said, collected. "And you still don´t." The tension Javert felt radiating from the body before him, belied his calm tone. "Maybe the vampyre in you wants to kill me." Valjean said. "But the human in you doesn´t."

Javert´s hand moved on its own, grabbing his throat, and Valjean tensed. Neither of them moved, or even made a sound. All Javert could do was stare, and trying to control himself. To control this monster inside of him, that wanted to do more. So much more.

"You can fight it, Javert." Valjean managed at last. "I know you can."

And somehow his words only intensified this anger in Javert´s mind. The desperation.

"I always could." he hissed through clenched teeth. Valjean´s face didn´t change. He still didn´t show fear. No real fear at least. "Why did you have to come back?" Javert growled, almost frustrated, and still there was no change. Eventually he let go of him, taking a few steps into the tiny room, his hand wiping his face. God, what was he doing here?

"Maybe there´s a way how I can help you." Valjean´s voice invaded his mind once again. "There must be a cure for what makes you suffer."

"A cure?" Javert could not believe his ears. "Are you mad, Valjean? What makes _me_ suffer? You should worry about your own life."

"I have been reading." the ex culprit insisted on having his say. "A lot. I haven´t found out what could cure you yet but …"

"You have been _reading_ to find a_ cure_?" Javert cried in utter disbelieve. "How long have you been doing this?"

The man before him gulped, uncomfortable. "I´m still searching."

Javert gaped, unable to compute. "Dear God, you _are_ insane."

"I know I can help you."

"Help me!" the vampyre almost laughed. "There is. No. Cure. I am what I am. No one can change that. And you … you have awoken this monster inside me. You made me thirst for blood. Your blood."

At last Valjean showed his fear, not able to hide it anymore. And Javert was glad that he did. Maybe there was a tiny bit of sanity left in this man.

"So you better stop talking now." he advised him. "If you don´t want your daughter to find a bloody mess in here."

"You won´t kill me."

"Don´t be so sure."

"You came here to speak with me. Not to kill me. Why?"

Javert took a breath, grateful for this change of subject. "I needed to know what happened." he said.

"What happened?"

"Today in the street. With Thénardier."

"Why is that important?"

"Because I´m not the only one, Valjean, that caught scent of this sweet blood of yours. And I need to know if it was coincidence that Thénardier found you today … or if he´s been targeting you."

It was then that Valjean finally realized. "He too is …" and at this he halted, realizing even more. "Oh my God." For a moment all strength seemed to leave him, until his eyes found Javert again, and he staggered forward. "Am I in danger?" he breathed. "Oh God, Cosette. What can I do?"

Javert only looked at him, sighing quietly. "There´s nothing you can do." he answered, in all honesty. "He has picked up your scent. And when a vampyre recognizes the scent of a single human out of hundreds … there´s no way he could ever lose it again."

Valjean was shaking his head, frantically. "I need to get her away." he said and Javert could only agree.

"Yes." he took a breath. "That´d be for the best."

And the instant this was spoken, Valjean was on his way out, stopping just in the door. His gaze was so lost, something Javert had never seen on this man. Not since the night he´d found him weeping over the dead Fantine.

"Please, Javert." he swallowed. "You´ve got to help me. I can protect Cosette from anything, but supernatural … I can´t do this. Not alone."

But Javert remained stony-faced. "Who says I´d do anything to help you?"

"You came here." Valjean cried, taken aback. "You warned me."

"And I have no idea why I even did this." Javert pushed him out of his way, passing him, to get out at last. He glanced back at him, hesitating one last time, and narrowed his eyes. "Take her." he practically ordered him. "Leave the city. Maybe even the country. As soon as possible. And pray that he´ll not be that obsessed to follow you."

Valjean, in his lack for a response, only nodded, obediently. "Tomorrow I´ll arrange our passage to …"

"Don´t." Javert raised a hand, annoyed at this man´s infinite stupidity. "Don´t … tell me. It´s better I don´t know. Since I don´t plan to visit, I don´t need to know where you are going. Right?"

For a moment Valjean looked at him in a strange way. Disappointed? But eventually he nodded.

"Thank you."

Javert´s only internal response to this gratitude was anger. Fuming anger. "Just get the hell out of my life, Valjean." he hissed and turned around, to leave, through the kitchen, just like he´d entered. Valjean did not try to question him about it.

**...**

He was about to leave the place when he heard the voices, coming from the garden. There was no thread in them, and when he spotted Eponine, how she watched the two young lovers from the shadows, he knew he´d never understand how people worked.

She looked so hurt. So lost. Had he cared about her, he might have felt pity now. But he barely knew her, had only met her twice in his life, including tonight. She didn´t mean anything to him. Except for the fact that she too was a revenant.

I´m only half what she is, he reminded himself, hardening his heart and turned around, to leave this place at last.

"Cosette, what are you doing?" he heard the man´s voice, as if he refused to leave him in peace, and Javert stopped without wanting it. "I told you to stay inside." he heard him whisper at the girl and when he peeked back around the corner, he saw the boy hide from Valjean´s sight, as the old man looked out through the gate. Looking for a _him_, Javert knew. But he wouldn´t see him. Not anymore. They´d said everything there was to say. He´d given him his orders. Now see that you get the hell out of here, Valjean.

As if he heard him, Valjean gave up searching him, and with a sigh finally returned to his house. Good. Leave. There´s nothing left for you here. Only death.

Javert once again glanced at Eponine, but her attention was at the boy again. Javert didn´t stay to watch any more of this drama. He turned his back on it and just walked away.

He made it around a few corners, and then he heard the scream. Eponine! He swirled around. A vampyre would never scream like this, except something was wrong. Very wrong. And Javert just knew that this scream was meant for him. Ponine had known he was close.

His feet were moving before he knew it, and while he was running, his mind was blank. He didn´t know what happened – but he had a pretty good guess. He also didn´t know that Valjean of course had heard the same scream. That he made the same connections and knew this scream was caused by him, Javert. That it had to mean Thénardier had found his cover after all. And that Javert had been right. He and Cosette were not safe at the house any longer. If it wasn´t too late already.

The old man did the only thing he knew how to do. He ordered his daughter to get dressed, to get ready to move again, like they had done it every time when he´d felt unsafe. Quick and efficient. That´s how he´d raised her. And in his determination to keep her safe, even from a vampyre that might be after them – not might, you heard what Javert said, he´s here, right now – he ignored her strange pleading to stay, and dismissed it mercilessly. This was about life and death. He had no time for her childish begging. Javert had been clear, and he intended to listen to him. They had to leave right now.

Outside he heard a voice, full of authority.

"Police!"

It wasn´t Javert´s voice. It was some other police man. So maybe there was hope after all, that this incident would be over soon, without involving them. Maybe the police would scare off Thénardier and give them the time they needed to get away unseen.

He didn´t know.

He didn´t see what Javert saw. The smile on Thénardier´s face, just as the officer reached out a hand for him. Javert knew what would happen, only a second before André swirled around, and drove his teeth into the man´s neck. Javert saw a police man on the ground, the worst kind of creature bowed over him, and the sounds of eating, and tearing flesh.

He ran and grabbed the hunched thing. André grabbed _him_ in return, too fast to react in time, and Javert got thrown around, onto the dead man, his face pressed into a warm and wet something.

"No need to get rude, brother." André hissed through bloody teeth. "I would have shared."

Javert mobilized his strength, and pushed. It was enough to get André off of him. When he attacked again, Javert kicked out with both feet, as strong as he could. It must have been much harder than he thought. André flew and landed at the far end of the street. Did_ he_ just do that?

Behind him there were footsteps, and then he heard a gasp, from a familiar voice.

"Oh my God."

Javert stared over his shoulder, at Valjean, and cursed inwardly. What was he doing in the street? These things were still out here.

"Get the hell out of here!" he roared at him, and it was Valjean´s flinch back and the fear in his eyes, that made him remember the blood all over his face. He glanced down on the dead police man, and understood. Well, now at least Valjean had to realize what he´d gotten himself into.

Javert glared at him, like an animal, and Valjean froze.

Behind himself, Javert heard André get up. Of course Valjean had seen him too.

"Run!" Javert ordered, and turned around to face André. The vampyre had focused on Valjean, he could see that. His next victim if he´d get the chance. But Javert would not give him this chance. He´d killed one man. He would not kill a second time.

He threw himself at him, just as he tried to lunge for Valjean, and a moment later the impact made him lose orientation, as bricks and dust flew all around them. What had just happened? This wall had looked solid to him.

André´s hands reaching for him brought him back to his senses, and he attacked, before the vampyre could. Once again, he collected all his energy, just the way he´d done it before, and it was amazing how much he actually unraveled. A foreroof, made of solid wood, fell apart as if it was made of toothpicks. And this time Javert did not waste time gaping about it.

He could see the surprise in André´s eyes, about the intensity of Javert´s resistance. But with that he was not alone. Javert forced himself not to think about it. Hesitation could mean death. And that was when he spotted the drinking trough. Water.

André seemed to guess it, and grabbed his collar. But other than a full vampyre Javert didn´t need to care if he got wet. When he plunged André into the water, he felt not great, but he felt definitely better than his opponent.

Beneath him, under the surface, he could see André´s skin pale out, turning gray with each second the water was soaking into his dead flesh. The vampyre struggled, tried to get free, to get out. But in the end he was too weak. No dead creature could fight the deadliness of the water. Only a minute in this trough could be enough to kill him. Really kill him. All Javert would have to do was hold him down, until it was over.

But he hadn´t come here to kill. He´d never wanted to kill – not really – and so he dragged André up, out of the water, and allowed him to breath. He was weak enough now. More it didn´t need.

It wouldn´t last long, he knew that. Even if he arrested him now, it might last barely until they reached the station-house. No, if he wanted to restrain André for longer than that, he had to do something more permanent.

His eyes found the broken roof, the splintered wood they´d left in their wake. One big beam stood out inbetween all the debris, and for a moment it seemed to Javert as if it was placed there on purpose. So he´d know what to do. And of course, he knew.

André put up no struggle this time, when he dragged him along, until he realized what Javert had in mind. It was too late to resist though. Javert pushed him, right into this pointy piece of wood. It went through him like through old rotten paper, and came out on the other side as a bloody mess.

For a moment Javert was shocked. He hadn´t expected such a scream. But it took him only until André looked down on himself, realizing that Javert had pierced his shoulder, not his heart. And upon seeing the amused smile, hearing this gurgling laughter of the revenant, his little hint of sympathy was gone for good.

"You … You just can´t do it, can you?" André panted, his hand grabbing the bloody wood that stood out from his own flesh.

Instead of answering Javert jerked him around, breaking off the piece, and André screamed again, dropping to the ground. Only for a moment Javert allowed him to recover. When André reached for the beam again, to pull it out, Javert took it. He pulled, just enough so one end vanished inside André´s body. Another quick jerk, and the rest of the beam broke off, leaving nothing else to grab.

The wood inside his body would keep André weak, hopefully long enough to reach prison, and a nice little isolated cell, where he could do no more harm. Should he live from the blood of rats. He would kill no other person as long as Javert could prevent it.

* * *

><p><strong>Now? Was it as much fun for you as it was for me? You can let me know ...<strong>

**You can also let me know if I messed up.**


	9. The battle Only just Begun

**The battle Only just Begun**

The station-house was much more occupied than he´d expected. So much more officers around, horses in full gear, ready to leave, and buzzing activity wherever he looked. It didn´t need a psychic to know that something was going on.

Javert wanted to book André himself and escort him to prison personally, just to make sure he´d be properly secured. But he got ordered to hand the prisoner over as soon as he set foot inside. They practically took André from him, like a distracting toy would be taken from a child that was supposed to pay attention. He barely had the time to report what happened – a murdered police man in rue Plumet, and a very dangerous man that had to be chained and brought to prison instantly.

The last thing he saw was André´s mocking grin, as he was led away, by men who had no idea about how dangerous he could be. Javert just prayed the wood in his dead flesh would keep him weak enough.

The door closed behind André. And everything after that was a total blur.

**...**

He attended the briefing, preparation and planning. The police would cooperate with the National Guard on a special mission, and he, Javert, was ordered to lead the troops. Only very briefly did the thought of Valjean disturb his focus. Would this expected riot at Lamarque´s funeral interrupt Valjean´s arrangements to leave the city? He hoped not.

No. There was no reason why it should.

It was so unreal. All his life he´d tried to get this man out of his mind, to forget about him, and move on with his life, his duties, his responsibilities. And now all he could think of was: Is he gone yet? Did he make it out of the city? How far will he get in one night? Will it be enough to be safe from André?

It was ridiculous. He shouldn´t be worried about this man´s life. He should focus on the task at hand.

He called himself to order, tried to listen closely, as they got instructed and when it was his turn he somehow managed it to give his input. When he was finished he happily let this Lieutenant of the National Guard take over again, and excused himself for a moment. He needed some fresh air.

As soon as he was outside, his mind was swirling. God, what was the matter with him? He´d never been that distracted, his entire life. Never. Except one time.

Valjean. God, if he only knew how far away he was by now. He could focus again, if he´d only know. Maybe he should have told him to send him a note. As soon as they were safe. Maybe …

"Antoine." a female voice startled him, but when he looked around, there was only a boy coming at him. A street kid.

But wait. No. That was …

"What the hell is this?" he cried, regarding the disguise. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help." Eponine´s voice was weak, with a desperation, as she looked up to him from under the rim of her hat. "I have no one else to turn to. My father plans to kill the students. And other people too. Everyone who takes part in the battle, by choice or by accident."

"Your father is in custody." Javert assured her, irritated by her outburst. "I arrested him, just an hour ago."

Eponine only shook her head. "He´ll get out." she was convinced about this, he could tell. "Babet and the others are on their way to get him. You know they will not fail."

And she was right with that. Javert´s heart hammered, his head swirling in desperation. No. No! Why had he allowed this? Why?

"They won´t spare anyone." Eponine´s pleading voice disrupted his mind. "You know how they are when they hunt. Please, I don´t want this to happen. I fear …"

"I can imagine what you fear." he heard himself say. "You fear for the life of your sweetheart." Her silence made him focus again. "But tell me." he asked, completely serious. "What could I even do? I tried to stop your father. When it was only him. But alone against the whole family?"

"You must." she grabbed his arm in her desperation.

"What am I supposed to do?" he yanked it away. "Call the police upon them? Report an anonymous tip about a gang of vampyres that plan to terrorize the city? Don´t be ridiculous."

For a moment he believed to have won the argument, for her jaw was clenched in what looked like defeat. But he was wrong.

"I know you understand me." she would not give up. "You always pretend you don´t, but I know you do."

Javert narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded to know.

"You don´t hate the humans. The way my father does. The way most of us do. You don´t despise them. You´re one of them. A part of you is human. So please. You must help me." She looked up at him, and Javert could see the tears in her eyes. "I can´t let him die." she whispered.

Neither could I, Javert thought to himself. But on the outside his face remained stone cold. He could not allow her to weaken him now, to sway him.

"Then don´t." was all he said and the desperate girl before him, turned to stone, just the same, at his remark. She looked so hurt, so disappointed.

"I can´t help you." Javert insisted. "Or him." She didn´t say a word. "Don´t you understand?" he cried. "I´ll be on the other side. He´ll be behind the barricades. I´ll be before it. Attacking them."

"You are one of us too." she stated, collected. "You know your ways in the dark, just as well. You´ll find a way."

"No. I can´t. I have my orders." Without saying another word, he turned, and walked away from her.

"I always thought you were different, Antoine." she shouted after him, and he stopped, never turning around. "I thought that you had a heart to touch."

Now he did turn around. Her gaze was hard, betrayed, almost disregarding. "But it seems I was wrong." she sniffed, dismissing him. "I´m alone after all." It was a statement, a fact, nothing more. "I´ve always been on my own." She gave a dry chuckle, almost too cynical for someone her age, even in vampyre measures. "Good luck in the battle." she told him, turning away from him. And as if adding an afterthought, she told him: "Take care."

It was the only thing she said to him, that didn´t sound angry anymore.

Javert just stood there, and watched her walk away. Something inside him was numb, unable to move. Had he really just done that? Had he let someone down, that had come to him with the same – the exact same – desperation he felt about the exact same situation? Why had he done that? What was the matter with him? This girl might be his only ally in this battle ahead.

He wanted to call after her, to stop and come back. But he didn´t. Instead he watched her go. And all the sudden, he noticed her disguise again. So much more now, as if he´d only seen it before, but now that he really payed attention, he understood the meaning of it. She would be with them. With those students, when they attacked tomorrow. She´d be with the rioters, with him, the boy she loved.

And in this moment Javert knew what he had to do.

He went back inside, rejoining the briefing of the troops.

"Inspector." the Lieutenant straightened, respectfully.

"Send out someone to gather old clothing." he ordered one of his men, and when he only got a startled frown: "I wasn´t suggesting this. Our men need to look like workers."

At last the man seemed to understand, and left, to fetch the wanted disguises. Javert turned back to the Lieutenant, still waiting for an explanation. And this time Javert was only too happy to give it.

"I tell you what we´ll do, Lieutenant."

**...**

The tumult started way too easy. Shouting boys, climbing the carriage of the funeral track, waving flags and in the end, there were roaring guns. Javert was in the midst of it, and still he merely stood by. Watched. Watched it all unfold. He watched his men perform the movements he had planned for them but nothing helped. It didn´t stop the riot from unraveling, and soon he found himself in total chaos.

He could barely remember details later on. Only that he walked, like in a dream. A crazy, unhealthy dream of a restless and maybe insane mind. A dream that sent its dreamer into a whirlwind of images, colors and noise, unable to wake up and escape this madness.

At some point Javert felt the sharp draft of a bullet passing by his face, missing his cheekbone just about a few inches. It was irrelevant who´d fired it, a police man, a revolutionist, whoever. The bullet would have killed him and no one would have asked how it happened. And just thinking of that, made Javert think of André again.

This was exactly why he had chosen this day. Why he knew he could kill today, without any consequences. A feast for him indeed. Javert felt sick just at the thought of it.

He was here somewhere. Javert just knew that. He and his pack of hungry revenants. Somewhere among these many people, who were running all over each other like startled ants. Faceless masses, and André was probably just like him, in disguise, blending in, almost impossible to spot. But Javert would spot him. Him or the others. If he came across one of them. And oh for the first time in his life, he really hoped to come across one of them.

He reached a street that carried a familiar smell. Javert needed a moment to realize what it was. Valjean! His scent was still here. Still in the air, like the stench of a fire that got stuck on a building after it burned down. The stench of death. The death of Javert´s sanity and reasoning.

Focus.

Something crashed to the ground, breaking apart. A piece of furniture. Another followed. And another. Things got pushed out of the windows all around, and soon the rioters were shoving them together, into each other, heaving it all up.

Javert joined in, just for good measure. It would look suspicious if he´d only stand about and watched. It took maybe ten minutes and the barricade was build. If he´d been allowed to sympathize with these traitors he would have been impressed. Their efficiency was almost militaristic. If one overlooked the fact that it was total chaos.

"I need a volunteer." he heard the voice of a young man – probably the leader. "Someone who can find out their plan, and when they will attack."

Javert took his chance. Had the police really thought these kids could be a serious danger? It was almost too easy to fool them. Entrusting their oh so important revolution to a total stranger! They even handed him a gun. A gun!

Javert left, taking in one last time, all the details that would be needed so the National Guard could overpower these kids quickly and easily. Maybe if they did this right, this whole thing would be over before André and his pack would have a chance to get started.

He slipped around the corner, out of their sight, glancing over his shoulder one last time, to make sure he wasn´t followed. And when he turned around, all the sudden someone was in his way.

She´d come from out of nowhere, just like her father. Ponine. Her eyes were demanding, almost hard.

"You came." she spoke, and there was something hopeful in her voice. Maybe grateful. "I knew you´d come."

Javert only shook his head, and tried to shove her out of his way. "I told you I had a job to do here."

"What will you do?" she asked, scared now, and he stopped, to turn back to her.

"What do you think?" he asked, but she seriously seemed lost. "I´m not here to save your sweetheart." he informed her. "I´m here to stop unnecessary bloodshed."

"You …" she stared at him, shaking her head, as realization finally came home to her. "No." she cried. "If you arrest them they´ll be … They´ll be …"

"Imprisoned." he finished the sentence for her. "Right. And that is exactly what they deserve. They brought this on themselves."

Something flashed up in her dark eyes. "No." she tried to grab him, but of course he was stronger. "You can´t do this." she cried, trying to get her wrist free. "They´d be in jail for life."

She struggled, fought, so desperately trying to convince him, and without wanting it, Javert felt uncomfortable seeing the tears in her eyes. Her passion was real. So real. She acted as if it was about her own life, not theirs. Was she really that blind? That idealistic? Or was it only about the one among them? Probably.

"What did you think would happen?" he asked her. "That we´d save your prince and you´d fly away with him into the night? Wake up. This is no fairy tale. There can never be a happy end, now that it has started. If I don´t arrest them, they´ll die. All of them. It is either death or jail."

Eponine gulped, at his words, swallowing back her tears and anger. "Slavery you mean."

He snorted. "This is the choice, Ponine. If you want it or not. So which of both do you prefer?"

Again there was this moment of silence before she answered him. "It´s not what I prefer." she said, and he did not bat an eye at her.

"He´ll die." he told her, mercilessly. Because she needed to understand. "Or he´ll live in prison. Except if you decide to make him one of us."

But here she shook her head, instantly for the first time. Good. At least some common sense was still in her.

"Then there is no choice." he spoke. "Stay with him to the end, if you want. Or leave before you have to watch it."

He was about to turn and leave when she spoke up again, much calmer now, but not less desperate.

"You still don´t understand it." her voice sounded tired. Tired of him, Javert. "This bond." she said, and he turned back to her. "Do you? Did Shanti never teach you what it means?"

And upon hearing this name, Javert got angry. He walked back to her, glaring warningly.

"Shanti never had anything to teach me." he growled. "Is she the one who told you this fairy tale? Now I´m not surprised anymore."

But Eponine was not so easily irritated. "I belong to him." she told him, so convinced, and not even his snort could make her waver. "I do." she insisted, determined to let him know this truth. "Whether he loves me or not. Because I do. I didn´t chose that. It is something beyond our choice, or influence. It´s part of what we are, Antoine. It´s in our blood. And theirs. I would know his heartbeat out of hundreds. Even if I hadn´t seen him in a thousand years. I would still know him."

"Humans don´t live that long." Javert remarked, before he knew what he was saying. And even he knew that the comment was beside the point.

Eponine just shook her head.

"You are the one that deserves pity, Javert." she said. "Not me. You´re a coward. You claim to live among humans but you fight your humanity just as much as you fight your vampyre blood. You´re running away. All your life you´ve been running, and now you´re running again. I won´t do that. I belong to him. And I´d rather die … than stay away from him."

Javert did not know what to respond. All her attention was on him, but he could clearly see that her heart, her full heart, was with this boy she loved. And something about this shocked him deeply. As if this reveal was something that could harm him, physically. Ridiculous.

He swallowed it, putting on a mask of pure defiance.

"Then go back there." he said, at last. "Don´t say I didn´t warn you."

"Right back, Javert." her gaze was as defiant as his. Two stubborn souls lost in a battle that wasn´t even theirs.

But that didn´t mean they had any chance to stay out of it. They both knew that. And when Eponine turned around, so did Javert, determined to go and do what he had to. Determined not to care what she would do. Until he heard her gasp.

**...**

It was a very faint sound, he´d already reached the end of the allay, and when he turned back he almost didn´t see it. This creature that snuck along the barricade, sniffing for prey. A revenant. A hunter.

Javert noticed a movement up on the barricade and when he focused on the kid up there, he recognized Marius. Ponine´s sweetheart. He was checking on something, too focused on his work, to notice the crawling hunter. Whoever it was, he had spotted the boy, and made his way up the barricade. And down in the street, Eponine started running.

Javert wanted to call out – what for – but scaring the boy would only end up in total chaos, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead he hurried after Eponine. But against a born vampyre, running on all fours, he was a slow and weak human.

Eponine did not care. Like a wild animal she reached the barricade, jumped after the hunter, and grabbed him, just before he could reach the unsuspecting Marius. Javert saw her drag him down. The boy had vanished from his view by now, not even having noticed this rescue attack beneath him. And Eponine had lost the fight before it even started.

The hunter rolled her around, before she had a chance to struggle, and a moment later, she was trapped under his grip, pressed against the wall. She opened her mouth, hissing at him in anger, and it was the first time Javert ever saw her baring her fangs.

"Montparnasse."

"Ponine." the vampyre grinned, laughing when she struggled, hopelessly against his superior strength. "Oh your father sure won´t like this. I think I´ll better teach you a lesson in his name." And with that he was reaching down, to open his pants.

Javert had seen enough. He stepped in and grabbed this bastard. The vampyre stared at him, disturbed. He´d obviously not even noticed him yet. But now he did. Hell, he did.

"Where´s André?" he demanded to know, pushing him against the wall, where he´d held Eponine just a moment ago. "Tell me where I find him."

But Montparnasse´s irritation was gone as fast as it had come. He laughed at Javert´s try to threaten him.

"Don´t worry." he grinned. "He´ll be here soon." He glanced at Eponine and then at him again. "Humans." he grumbled with disgust. "They´re weakening our blood. The only way they´re good for anything is by feeding us."

Javert pushed, against the vampyre´s throat. "Is this about her?" he demanded to know. "Is this why he´s doing this? Nothing more?"

"Her." Montparnasse croaked. "And you. You´ll both learn a lesson tonight."

Javert was too startled, for the moment. But even if he hadn´t been, Eponine still would have been too fast for him, when she grabbed Montparnasse, choking him.

"I rather kill you first." she hissed, and Javert pushed her back.

"You´ll do no such thing." he told her. "You´ll not lower yourself down to his level."

"He threatened us." she cried. "He threatened Marius."

"You´ll not murder him on my watch, you hear me?"

"You really insist on the law? Now? This is war, Javert. There is no law here. Not for an animal like him."

"There´s always a law." he wouldn´t allow any discussion about this fact. "If you really want to belong to human society, you better learn this now. No one is above the law."

Eponine only glared at him, so full of hate, but at least she didn´t object. Javert turned back to Montparnasse, facing this unwavering arrogant grin on his face. And he felt the urge to vomit, just seeing this. He glanced over his shoulder, searching for a moment.

"Give me this lath." he then demanded from Eponine.

The girl seemed to hope he might have changed his mind and hurried to hand him the lethal tool. It was sharp at the end. Very good.

"What are you doing?" Montparnasse asked, worried, and Javert took the lath, firmly into his hand.

"Making sure you won´t hunt anyone tonight." he answered, and rammed the lath clean into his leg, clamping his other hand over his victim´s mouth, muffling the scream.

He glanced over his shoulder at the top of the barricade, fearing the whole time that someone might have heard. But no one showed up, to check on the screams. No one had heard.

When Montparnasse was done screaming, Javert reached down, and broke off the lath, just like he´d done it with André. Once again the vampyre cried out, but it was not half as loud as it could have been. He was weak already, and it would take a while before he´d be able to get this wood out of his own flesh. Tonight he would be no danger to anyone anymore. Not the way he´d limp from now on.

Javert let go of him, letting him drop to the ground. "Crawl home." he told him. "And tell André to stay away from me. And his daughter."

The injured vampyre glared up at them both, like a pouting kid, and snarled at them. But he had lost and he knew that. Together they watched him stumble away, to the other side of the street, before he sagged against the wall, exhausted.

Javert dismissed him and his betrayed gaze. He turned to Eponine. "Go back to your friend." he told her. "Watch over him." he threw another glance at Montparnasse, knowing that he wasn´t the only one who was around tonight. "I´ll be back soon." he promised.

Eponine only nodded. She didn´t say a word.

Eventually Javert turned around and made his way to the end of the street, leaving the barricade at last, to continue with his mission. He was much too late for that already. It seemed though that he was not meant to ever get around this corner, because he once again got stopped, just before it, by another noise. This time it was a voice. Montparnasse´s.

"What do you still want?" the hunter asked, and when Javert turned back, he saw Ponine, standing there with him.

She was still silent, didn´t answer him at all. And somehow this refusal to even talk, told Javert beyond any doubt what she was up to. She turned, just for a moment, and he met her eyes. She didn´t care at all, not about him or the law.

He wanted to yell out, for her to stop, before she did something she´d regret. But there was no sign of regret, anywhere in her eyes. She knew he couldn´t reach her fast enough, knew he couldn´t shout out for her to stop. She threw herself at Montparnasse before Javert had even time to flinch. The sounds of his throat getting torn apart, his gurgling while he died, was clear and loud in Javert´s ears.

But only he could hear it, no one else. No human ear would ever hear the sounds of death as clear as he did.

Eventually he turned around, not looking back at Eponine or her victim. There was no going back for her now. Not now that she had killed a member of her own kind. Every man had to chose his way, at one point of his life. She just had chosen hers. And somehow Javert felt with certainty, that the time was near that he would have to make the same choice. If he wanted it or not.

* * *

><p><strong>So. This chapter was Eponine´s chapter, as much as it was Javert´s. Don´t know about you, but I enjoyed seeing her go all vampire. I really did :)<strong>

**Don´t forget to tell me what YOU think.**


	10. Behind the Barricade

**Behind the Barricades**

Doing his duty was simple. It had always been. He knew what he had to do, what was expected of him. Informing about the enemy, count of men, weapons, positions of the guards. It was simple. Child´s play. But somehow he couldn´t believe this anymore.

Things were different now. Very different. And it wasn´t only because of Eponine. Of what he´d seen her do. No, that would be too simple. Something else was overshadowing his mind. Something more heavy than that. And he couldn´t even say what.

When he went back to the barricade he felt strange. As if he knew with certainty that, whatever he did, it would be wrong. Maybe it was because he didn´t really want to be there. Maybe it was because Valjean´s scent was still distracting him – how could it still be there, and so strong, after more than a day – or maybe it was just inattention combined with a royal portion of bad luck, but he was almost glad when the kid cried out, denouncing him. There was a pressure inside him, something that wanted to break lose so desperately, and when this boy shouted his name, he finally could let go.

Eponine kept quiet. She didn´t say a word, didn´t interfere when they dragged him inside the tavern. He fought, not to injure anyone but to get away. And maybe that was the reason why he lost. He didn´t want to fight, he only wanted to get out, away from all of this. He wanted this night to end at last.

But it wouldn´t end. Not without blood. And by now he knew that.

The lights around him went out, quickly and efficiently, and for a while Javert was lost in merciful darkness. But even this darkness would not keep him safe for long. He didn´t know what happened. For all he knew, he was trapped in an unspeakable nightmare of noise, gunshots and shouts. Screaming everywhere. Voices filled with so much anger, and fear and worry, and dignity.

He heard the kid that had denounced him.

"Marius, what are you doing? Marius, no!"

Another shot, one of the last that were fired, but somehow louder than the others. Like thunder in a deep silence, echoing in his mind. Why, he didn´t know.

And then he heard the boy.

"Fall back. Fall back or I blow the barricade."

After that it was quiet. Much quieter than before, as if he was drifting back, deeper into the darkness. But he couldn´t. He couldn´t just retrieve. No matter how much he wanted to. Hiding away in the dark would be simple cowardice. He couldn´t do that.

So he struggled, fought his way back to the surface, to this dark light of fire that shone in the night. The torches of the rioters. Javert could hear them now, talking urgently. Something about rain and gunpowder. But there was only one voice that seemed to stand out for him, much clearer than all the others. A voice that was much weaker though. Broken.

Eponine!

"I kept this from you. It´s from Cosette."

Javert opened his eyes, and through the fog of disorientation he saw a figure, crouched outside the tavern, one hand on a bloody belly, while the rain was falling down on them.

"I´m sorry." Ponine´s voice sounded as if she spoke the last words she´d ever speak.

Two pairs of rough hands dragged Javert off the ground, and in this moment of total helplessness, he began to understand.

"Get her out of the rain." he tried to shout, at the boys tying him up. But his voice was slurred, too weak to be heard. "The water." he managed, while his own stomach was turning. "It´ll kill her."

"The rain will _hardly_ hurt her." one of them said, sadly. He didn´t know. He couldn´t know. And Javert was no one they would listen to.

Please, God. She could live. She could have a chance, if only they´d get her dry. Get her inside, out of the rain.

He couldn´t help. He couldn´t watch. And yet he had no chance to look away. Just tell them, he pleaded in his mind. Tell them to get you dry, for cry out loud.

But Eponine just lay there, as if this was what she had always wanted. She died, died in his arms. The boy that never loved her back. And if he knew, what he was really holding in his arms, her true and undisguised nature, Javert was not sure if he´d still care. If he´d still cry for her or kiss her head when she at last was gone from this world.

Javert closed his eyes. It wasn´t right. None of this was right. And he´d been absolutely powerless to stop any of those things. In this moment, his darkest hour, he felt more alone than ever in his life. And so much sadder than he´d ever thought it possible. Left behind in a world, so black and cold, that nothing could survive in it. Not even a creature that was born half dead, like him.

**...**

He didn´t know how long he sat there. His legs started to hurt, but he couldn´t just slump down. Each time he did, the rope around his neck cut off his oxygen and his sight blackened, until he straightened again. What these students lacked in experience, they compensated with creativity. It was tiring. It was futile. They´d kill him anyway. And if they wouldn´t, he´d probably catch a lost bullet in the battle to come.

He would die, just like Eponine had died. And frankly, this idea wasn´t even that frightening. At least then it would be over. He was just so exhausted. Why should he keep on struggling? Why not just sit down, and let go? More it wouldn´t take. Resting his legs at last, and just allow his mind to accept the loss of air.

It´s not bad. It´ll help you to sleep. Just sleep. It´s all right. It´s all right.

He closed his eyes, sighing deeply. And all the sudden, he heard voices, agitated yet again. He glanced up, just because he could, and for a moment he believed to dream.

This was impossible. What was he doing here? He´d told him to get out of Paris. Why would he come here. Not for him! How stupid could he be? He didn´t need to rescue him. Javert never asked for rescue. Did this old man truly believe this was a fairy tale? That he could save him from this beast inside him? That he could break his curse by saving him from certain death? It was ridiculous.

And then Valjean cried out.

"Enemy marksman!"

The shots began to roar and for a moment, Javert feared he´d see Valjean get hit, that he would see him fall, and die, the way he´d watched Eponine die.

It didn´t happen. The kids scared off the snipers, and no one behind the barricade got injured. Not this time.

Valjean was eying him again, slyly, assessing the situation. And Javert looked right back at him. What do you want Valjean? Am I supposed to believe you being here is just coincidence? I tried to save your life and now you risk it like that? What for?

But when Valjean turned to the leader of this riot, asking a favor for his help, Javert finally understood.

Of course. He should have known better than that. Of course he´d use his chance, now that it offered itself to him. What better way to get rid of a danger like Javert? At least now he knew that _some_ common sense was still left in this man.

He´d seen him kill a man before his house – or thought he did. He´d seen the blood and what a vampyre could do. It was no big surprise, that he had chosen to protect his daughter by all necessary means. It shouldn´t be. And yet …

But those had been Shanti´s tales, not his. And he had always known that a tale like theirs could only end in blood. Maybe it was even good this way. If Valjean wouldn´t kill _him_, Javert would have killed _him_ instead, sooner or later.

He could see the bloodlust in Valjean´s eyes when he approached him, the hate and the determination. André had been right. There was no bond between humans and their kind. There never was and never would be.

Javert did not look at him, he simply lacked the strength. And then a hand grabbed his hair, a jerk and he _did_ look up. Into his eyes, so hard he´d never thought it possible. It was the man he´d seen back in the days as 24601. The prisoner, he´d used to harass. The man he´d dreamed of killing in his sleep. And now Valjean was about to take_ his _life instead.

Javert did not resist. He let him drag him up and outside, into the allay. A push brought him to a rest, against the wall, his legs too numb to hold him steady. Even if he´d wanted to, he wouldn´t have the strength to fight.

It was all right. He didn´t want to. Not anymore. And something in Valjean´s eyes was so determined, Javert just couldn´t help. He felt relieved. It was about time to end this game.

"You´ve hungered for this all your life." he spoke, so quietly. "You might not have known it but you did." He nodded at the frown he saw. "Just do it. Take your revenge. Make sure to practice how to kill a creature like me. Cause André is out there, and he will find you."

He looked into those silent eyes, still so distant and unyielding as he drew a knife. Like a predator. Amazing. He´d never taken him for one.

"It´s all right, if you kill with a knife." he agreed, accepted. "But make sure to have some water on you. It weakens us. Just like sunlight. If we get injured, in the sun, or when we´re wet … we can die." The eyes before him still didn´t change. "Just thought that you should know that." He swallowed, awaiting what was inevitable. "You´ll have it easier with _me_ of course."

Valjean only nodded, and brought down the knife. And it was over before Javert had time to flinch.

There was no pain.

"Get out of here." Valjean spoke quietly. And something in Javert went off. What? What had just happened?

"I said, clear out of here." Valjean repeated, shoving him away, and all Javert could think was: No! This was wrong. What was he doing here? He was supposed to …

The gun aiming at him made all objections die in his throat. But only for a moment.

"I should have know." he spoke. "Once a thief, forever a thief. Did your books tell you about this? About a deal you cut with a vampyre? Trading lives, to gain advantages? You will never change, Valjean. I should have known. You should kill me, make sure the danger for your life is gone. Instead you try a silly thing like that. It doesn´t work like that. This is no vampyre fairy tale, it never was!"

He stared at him, trying to glare, as dismissively as he could, weak as he was. But all he received from Valjean was pity. Something gentle.

"You´re wrong." the fugitive spoke. "You´ve always been wrong. I never wanted anything. I´m just a man. No worse than any other man … just because I do not fear you. I never blamed you, for anything. You didn´t hunt to kill me. You´ve done your duty, nothing more. How could I ever hold that against you?"

"I could have killed you." Javert breathed, because this man could not be serious. "Many times."

"But you didn´t." Valjean smiled, unnoticeable. "You never did. And I will let you go. With no conditions or anything at all attached to that."

Javert looked up, unable to respond in any way. And Valjean. He just looked. So hard and uncompromising. How was that possible?

"How will _you_ explain that you´re leaving?" Javert asked, before he knew it. Because Valjean did not seem as if he´d come with him right away. He surely wouldn´t …

"I´m not going anywhere." the old con interrupted his reasoning. And Javert gaped. What?

"I didn´t come here for you." Valjean chuckled ever so slightly about the idea. "There´s something else that I must do."

"The hunters are out there." Javert cried. "Thénardier."

"And you made sure I know how to fight them." Valjean smiled at him again and there was something in his eyes, something Javert couldn´t name. "If I should come out of this alive." he spoke as if he tried to convince him at last. "You will find me in La Rue de l´homme Armee number five."

Javert just couldn´t believe it. He wanted him to come to him? Despite what happened? Despite the blood he had on his hands? Why? Why?

"No doubt our paths will cross again." Valjean´s voice was like thunder in his head, no matter how quiet he spoke.

Javert was in a daze, like a sleepwalker. He saw his eyes, so calm and ready for whatever had to come for him. And again Javert had absolutely no power. Again he was abandoned, send away. And once again, he had no strength to fight this force.

When he at last turned around, it was a mechanical response to an order he had gotten, nothing more. The force of habit. And when the shot echoed in this alley, he barely flinched, sluggish as his mind was. He met Valjean´s gaze, one last time, and he knew what he wanted to say.

For just a moment I held your life in the palm of my hand. Don´t forget this, monsieur vampyre.

And he wouldn´t. If Javert wanted it or not, he´d just made the deal. His life for his. And maybe even more.

He turned again, and this time didn´t stop.

**...**

He staggered more than he walked. The streets were empty, dark, abandoned. He had to reach the lines. He had to get his men to storm the barricade. Before André or any of his hunters could get there, for a meal.

And somehow, as if this thought had called it, he heard the sounds of something. Eating. Like an animal. He stumbled to a corner, and what he saw made even _his_ blood curl. A creature, bowed over a man, eating on him. Drinking from his throat. And the man that lay there, wore a uniform.

"No." Javert was sure he had not spoken loud. His voice was still too weak. And still the creature stopped drinking as he moved to reach it, and hissed at him like a snake.

Javert walked faster, pins and needles screaming in his legs. But he just had to reach that thing. He had to.

It hissed again, and crouched down, to jump at him. And then there were voices. Men who called out to stop and halt.

Javert reached the dead man, but not the vampyre. The hunter had long disappeared, somewhere into the darkness of the alley.

His legs gave in and he fell down. Footsteps approached him. "Inspector! Oh dear God."

"The barricade." he managed to bring out, ignoring their theories of a killing rioter getting away. "We need to get there. I need to get back there."

"You can´t walk anywhere, inspector." someone objected, instructing another man to call for a doctor.

"I need …" Javert tried to insist, but simply lacked the strength.

"Don´t you worry about that, inspector." the man told him. "The barricades will be taken care of. It already begun. Can´t you hear it?"

And indeed, now that he listened closely, he could hear the distant shots, and shouts of men, echoing through the night.

Valjean. He was among them. On his own, despite the bunch of schoolboys he accompanied.

And that was blissfully the last Javert could think, before his mind was taken by the darkness.

**...**

When he woke up there was bright daylight shining through a window. For just a moment, he was startled. Where was he? This was wrong. He shouldn´t be here, lying on a bed. He should be out there, in the streets. It should be nighttime.

A hospital. No. The infirmary. How had he gotten here? He struggled up, too fast and promptly his head started to spin. He sat back, fighting the nausea, desperately trying to get over it. What had happened? What had happened since last night?

A sound. Someone entered and when he looked up, he saw the Lieutenant standing there.

"Always in time, right inspector?" the man joked. "How do you feel?"

"What happened?" Javert asked instead.

"You passed out after our men found you."

"No. At the barricades."

For a moment the Lieutenant was quiet. "You did what you could." he then said. "Don´t worry, Gisquet says you´ll be honored for your dedication."

Javert´s head was still spinning, but now it was worsened by his anger.

"What. Happened. At the barricades?" he asked again. And finally he got his answer.

"They got defeated. All of them. It´s over."

He looked up, almost afraid to ask the next question. "Where did you take the prisoners?"

The Lieutenant shook his head. "There are no prisoners." he answered. "No one survived. They choose death over captivity."

Javert closed his eyes. No.

The Lieutenant kept quiet, uncertain, for a while. "I took the liberty to let your uniform be delivered here." he then told him. "Gisquet wants to see you as soon as you´re better. To hear your report. I told him I didn´t know when …" He didn´t finish, only waited until Javert nodded. "Do you want me to do anything?" the young man asked.

"Leave me." was all Javert could muster.

"Sir?"

"You heard me."

He still didn´t look up. The sounds of the young officer´s steps retrieving, was the only reason how he knew he was alone at last. Once again.

He buried his head in his hands, fingers grabbing hair, and for a moment he felt Valjean´s hand again, where he´d grabbed him last night. Back then, when Javert had still believed to die before him.

What did he do? What did he allow to happen? He didn´t want to … He´d wanted him safe. Somewhere … safe from André. And now?

_My heart belongs to him, _he heard Eponine´s voice, as clear as if she was here with him._ There are bonds between us and humans, that are totally out of our control. I know that he is mine. Whether he loves me or not. And I´d rather die than stay away from him._

You did, Ponine. You did die. And so did he. All of you died. And I couldn´t stop it. I couldn´t protect you. I was too weak. I failed. He´s dead, and the promise I gave him … now this is all I have left.

Javert´s eyes found the uniform, the Lieutenant had left for him, and with no other reason but to move on, he started to get dressed, peeling himself out of the old rags he´d worn last night, and into his robe of honor. When he was done he felt empty. This uniform should be his shield. Had been for all those years. It was a second skin to him, and yet today it felt like nothing at all.

**...**

He started moving, mechanically, leaving the hospital, to walk straight back to the barricades. The blood was still there, the fallen men still lay where they´d fallen. Police men, mostly soldiers. Some of the revolutionaries. But most of _them_ were lined up in the tavern. The very tavern they´d kept him in. Now it was their tomb. A grave for all those young people.

Eponine was among them. And so was the kid, that had denounced him. Dead, just like all the others. Death knew no age, and no difference in heritage either. Ponine. The child. Two vampyres among humans. All of them, lying side by side, united in death. And kneeling there, Javert felt like a fake. The uniform he wore a lie, like a decadent put on mask of cowardice.

He knew it didn´t change anything at all, but after he put his medal on the dead boy´s chest – a medal for bravery and honor – he felt a little lighter. As if at least one little lie had been taken off his chest. This was right. More right, than their deaths had been.

His eyes found Eponine again, and there was a peaceful smile on her lips. Almost impossible to see, and if he hadn´t been there when she died, in the arms of the man she´d loved, he would have overlooked it too.

He couldn´t breath. Something inside this tavern was suffocating him, and he got up, hurrying back out.

Valjean. He had to be here somewhere. No one had survived. He had to be among those bodies. Only he wasn´t. No matter how long Javert looked. And neither did he find the boy. Ponine´s sweetheart. They were both just … gone.

But that couldn´t be. He could smell him. Valjean´s scent. It was still in these streets.

He´d spend the whole night here, of course it was here.

But no. There was more to this smell. It smelled as if Valjean was still around. Hiding maybe. Javert´s senses sped up. If Valjean was still close, he´d find him. He couldn´t not find him. His scent was too clear for him. Even though it seemed covered by something stronger.

The decay? The dead bodies? But no. The smell he had in his nose, was different than what a dead body would radiate. More … filthy.

And that was when he spotted the open sewer. Not more than a drainage really. But something came from there. And now that he listened closely, and trained his senses towards it, he could hear him. Groaning, gasping labored, maybe in pain. And Javert knew, just knew what Valjean was doing. He could smell him now, clearly over all that other stench. And just in this moment Javert caught another scent in there too. Also familiar. And he knew, that he had to act fast.

He jumped up, swirling around, his mind already set on the hunt again. He could sense him, enough to follow his scent through the streets. He was close. Not far away, just beneath his feet. The smell came from the manhole covers, every now and then in the streets. With each of them that he passed, the smell got stronger. Soon. Soon, he´d be there.

He quickened his steps, dodging corner after corner, leaving the barricade behind, and then at last, he smelled it. So much stronger now, than before. Valjean. He was down there, just beneath this cover ahead. He could hear their hearts beating. Two of them. Valjean´s still so strong, still alive, despite all the odds. And Javert started running. Because he knew that one of those beings down there with him, was not alive. Not in the literal meaning of the word.


	11. Choices Made

**Choices Made**

It was dark, and filthy and wet. Everything around him stank like decay and waste of the worst kind. Valjean had no idea if he wasn´t dead already, but when something made the water he lay in move – dear God that was no water – he suddenly knew that he wasn´t dead. Not yet.

Instinct took over and he shot up, grabbing whoever was sneaking through the darkness, to loom over him. His hands got hold of a man.

For a moment the face before him was startled. But then a smile sparkled in those eyes.

"You!" Valjean exclaimed, and reacted before he knew what he was doing.

The vampyre slumped down into the filthy water, too surprised to fend the attack. Water! That was all Valjean could think. Javert had spoken about water!

He didn´t stay to wait until the creature recovered. He went to the boy, never leaving the revenant out of his eyes, and backed off, even while he struggled to heave Marius over his shoulder. He could see a crouching something in the dark, lingering, waiting for its chance to jump and attack. And he knew that if he hadn´t pushed him down into this liquid, he would be dead by now. And just as Valjean began to really understand the danger he was in, Javert could hear him, his voice, from just a few dozen meters away.

The voices were muffled and too distorted by the echo to understand their words. But Javert knew these voices. Both of them. He ran.

And then it was quiet again.

When he finally reached the damn manhole, he could only see André. A dark figure in the filth. And he was covered over and over with it. What?

But then he knew it. He knew what happened. And in this moment, he felt a ridiculous pride. He´d done it. Valjean had seriously made it. He´d fended a vampyre, by using the only weapon he´d had. Water.

But that wouldn´t last long, Javert knew. Soon André would give chase, and with his trained senses of a predator he´d find Valjean, in this maze of tunnels. He would … but not this time.

Javert opened the grate.

"Stay right there." he ordered, aiming his gun at a stunned André. "You´ll let him go." he demanded and his voice left no room for arguments.

The vampyre just smiled. "Now why would I do that?" he asked and Javert triggered his gun. It was enough to make André halt. But only for a moment.

"You wouldn´t do that." he claimed, but even in his ears it had to sound uncertain.

Javert didn´t answer. It was as if time had stopped, all around them, and all that was left of this world was the two of them, gazing at each other. One from behind a veil of filth, the other from behind a loaded gun.

André smiled again, and jumped. Javert skipped back, instinctively, when this vermin-like creature pulled itself out of this hole, to resurface into the daylight. And oh he looked like he emerged from hell itself. A demon that had only the faintest resemblance with a human being. His smile was hideous, just terrible, made of pure evil.

Javert retrieved, hand gripping his gun nervously. André´s sight was so horrifying, even _he_ felt the natural fear of such things. The human side of him could feel the disgust every human had to feel towards a creature of the dark. Towards a vampyre.

André only smiled, so secure, encouraged by the fear he saw in Javert´s eyes.

"What would you give me if I let him go?" he asked, and his eyes were glowing, like the devil who smelled the chance for a deal.

"I´m not trading lives." Javert informed him.

"And yet you´re chasing a fairy tale." André objected. "Just like my daughter does. She has this strange idea of bonds with humans. Shanti placed this bug into her ear. Ever since we came to Paris. It´s a myth, Antoine. It doesn´t hold. It can´t, because it´s fantasy. Illusion. And you will see that when he´s dead."

"Maybe." Javert skipped back once more, and André followed. And just when he finally left the shadow of this street, and stepped into the open sunlight, Javert stopped in his retrieve. "But you won´t be the one to kill him."

André stopped short as well, guessing it. And Javert pulled the trigger.

The shot was loud in his ears, louder than any shot he´d ever fired. But he knew instinctively that he hit him straight through the heart. After so many years of training, he could tell when he´d hit his target.

André was gasping for air, like a dying fish, when Javert crouched down beside him. The panic in his eyes was real. At last.

"You´re weak." Javert mentioned, as if he´d just about realized this. "Wicket this water, isn´t it?" He glanced up for a second, squinting. "And the sun."

The face behind the filth and dirt was pale. Paler than usual. "You … You can´t kill one of us." André struggled talking. "We´re one of a kind."

"We´re not." Javert replied. "And I can. Your daughter could. She made a choice last night. And now it´s my turn."

André blinked, dazed. "My daughter?"

"She knew more than you will ever learn." Javert felt his heart racing, upon seeing the dying creature before him. "She tried to tell me." he said. "And I didn´t see."

He could tell that André didn´t understand. He´d never understand. How could he anyway? For him humans were animals. Supper. Nothing more.

"Why are you doing this?" the revenant demanded to know. "For a human? You turn your back on your own kind … for him?"

"I turned my back on your kind ever since I was born." Javert corrected. "Ponine did too. When I saw her do it, I didn´t think I´d be able to do the same." he took a breath. "But I think I can."

Again André gasped, irritated. "Ponine?"

Javert just nodded. "Tell her that I´m sorry."

And with that he pressed his hand into the vampyre´s throat. Harder. And harder. Not bothered by his weak struggles. The hands that hit out for him, were no resistance anymore. And when at last André lay still, it slowly, very slowly dawned on Javert. What he had done. What he had really done just now. It took him mere seconds to realize, and understand. And this truth was something that crushed down on him, in one devastatingly clear strike.

**...**

He was a murderer, not better than the man he´d killed. And what for? For Valjean? For a promise he´d made, according to a code that might or might not even exist? When had he started to believe in those fairy tales?

Valjean! He only now remembered him, and jumped up, to rush back to the manhole.

"Valjean!" he called into it, but got no answer. "VALJEAN!"

Silence. Valjean was long gone. And even if he heard him, what reason could he have to turn around and come back to him? To a vampyre?

Javert was a monster, now more than ever. André was right. Even if they lived among them, pretend to be one of them, a vampyre could never belong to humans. This would always remain facade. A lie. And he had lived this lie for so long, he´d almost begun believing it himself.

But now he saw. He saw. There was no escape. Never. He had allowed at last, what he had always fought. The monster inside was always there, lurking, waiting for its chance. And now it had won. He´d killed. And he could never make this undone. Just like Eponine. And she had payed with her life.

Ponine. She could have found Valjean, even in this maze of tunnels down there. She´d find the track again. But she was dead. They were all dead. And Valjean was gone.

But no. This was ridiculous. He wouldn´t die. This was Valjean. And like it was her voice speaking those truths, he saw Ponine in front of him. A smile was on her lips, so soft and lovely. As if she tried to tell him: _Go. You know where. Find out for yourself. You´ll see I´m right. That I´ve always been right. _

And then she was just gone. Her image swallowed by the sunlight reflected off the dust that swirled up in the street. Javert looked back, to André´s body. His pale complexion and his empty eyes. His victim. The first and only one he´d ever killed. Strange. He´d always thought it´d be Valjean he´d kill.

The gun was strangely light in his hand. Javert looked up, into the sky, only for a moment. Eponine was right. He couldn´t rest until he knew Valjean was still alive.

**...**

He found the exit of the sewers way too easily. If there was any place Valjean could exit from this maze, it was down there.

Javert waited. And all the while he wondered, asked himself: what for? To greet him when he exited? To hug him even, glad that he survived? What was he doing here? He was inspector of the law. A man that served a system, rules and regulations. Not someone who chased a dream of banes and witches and good fairies. There was no wish to be granted, no happy end for two old men. Not ever. Come back to earth and face reality. You have a life down here, a reputation. A duty to fulfill for cry out loud.

And that was when he heard the sounds. A grunt. A grate kicked open. A sigh. And sounds of dragging. He was alive. Dear God, he really was alive!

Javert followed the sounds. And then he saw him. Both of them. Two heartbeats, sounding in the darkness. Ponine was right. He knew which one was his, without a doubt. Out of hundreds if he needed to.

He found his gaze, as if he´d always known he would be waiting here. As if they had agreed to meet up here.

"It´s you, Javert." he heard him panting, so exhausted. "I knew you wouldn´t wait to long."

And Javert frowned. What did he mean by that? Wait for what? To seal their bargain? To claim what did belong to him now? His life maybe?

Valjean turned to the boy, a caring hand on him. "This man´s done no wrong." he told him. "He needs a doctor´s care."

He spoke as if he knew for certain he could ask another favor, just like this. Another point in their list of things that went into the contract.

"I told you there would be no deal." Javert told him. "I will not pay you back with anything."

"Just give me one more hour, man." Valjean cried up to him. "To save him. Then I´m yours. All our depths will be payed."

"You want to talk to me about justice, is that it?" Javert cried right back. "There is no deal, Valjean. I will not honor any …"

"Come, time is running short!" the man sitting in filth shouted, out of patience. "Look down, Javert. He´s almost in his grave."

And before he even finished speaking, he shouldered him, and started climbing up. As if their talk was useless waste of time. He probably was right. But even knowing that would not keep Javert´s insides from cringing. He was defiant even in the face of death. Defiant, towards him again. The way he´d always been in all those years.

"Are you even listening to me?" he shouted at him, but Valjean was not reacting.

He climbed, the boy like dead weight on his shoulder. And all Javert could do was watch him. He wasn´t scared. He wasn´t scared at all, when he came up the stairs at last, approaching him, the vampyre, who could have killed him years ago. He still could, Valjean just had to know that. How could he dare? How could he?

"If you take one more step, you´ll die."

At last the fugitive stopped. Afraid, at last, of this so present danger. Javert could feel the urge again, to jump at him and kill him, like he´d felt it all those years ago. His blood. It was so close. Not even the stench of filth could cover that. He could. He knew that. He could still kill him, if he wanted to. Not even Jean Valjean could doubt that.

And then he turned around. There was no fear, no tremble in his eyes. Exhaustion maybe. But no fear. He knew Javert would never do it. How could he know that? How?

He turned around, as if he didn´t even care, and simply walked away. To save this boy he carried on his shoulder. To finish what he´d started. It was the last thing Javert had needed, to know that he had lost. He dropped the pistol – empty anyway – into the sewers. The chase was over.

**...**

Dear God what had become of him? He didn´t know anymore who he was. And what. Everything he had believed in, everything he had build up for himself, to be safe and secure from this heritage he carried with him, was gone now. Vanished in this mist of pure uncertainty. Why had this happened? How had it ever come so far? He didn´t know anymore. Who was he? What was he supposed to do?

But there was nothing he _could_ do, now was there? What he had fought for all these years, had caught up with him. Blindsided him, so unprepared. He´d lost. He´d lost the battle, and when he looked down to the water of the Seine, beneath the bridge he´d stopped at, he saw the darkness of the same abyss he´d fallen into, long ago.

Vampyre. A creature of death. Followed by death in all eternity. But not like this. Not if he could help it. He had caused enough destruction. No more. There was a way to end it, here and now. The chase would end and with it all his crimes. He would not live to honor a deal he´d made with a thief. Valjean would not see the day when Javert would lose it and kill him after all, to claim back what he had offered him. His life.

When Javert opened his eyes to the water, it all seemed clear at last. Yes. This was the only way, he ever could honor this deal. His life for his. And just as he wanted to fall, he spotted a figure down at the river bank. Black. No, filthy. Walking with his head down, and weak as if he´d break down any moment. And Javert knew, even if he couldn´t hear the heartbeat over the gushing of the water, that this was him. And the way he slowly walked into the water, Javert´s heart leaped in sudden fear.

"Valjean!"

The figure, already to his hips in the water, embracing it, even splashing it all over himself, looked up, startled. And Javert started running. What was he doing? Why in hell would he try to end his life? Had he not given it to him? Hadn´t he set him free? He could not, had no right, to throw it away now.

He jumped, slipped off the edge before he was ready, and fell, hitting the water unprepared, so cold and dragging. From somewhere he heard the voice of the man he´d wanted to stop, crying out his name, and then there was only the water, clinging, dragging, claiming his life. And maybe it was good this way. Maybe he hadn´t seen Valjean at the riverbank after all. Maybe he had imagined it.

He felt a drag even stronger than before, as he slipped over the edge of the waterfall, and deeper into the stream. Everything around him swirled, black and cold, like the void of his life that could never be beaten, that he could never escape from. He closed his eyes, and surrendered.

And then, from out of nowhere there were hands, another body beside him, dragging him up, forcing him to resurface.

Valjean was gasping, labored, exhausted. But real. He WAS here. And he was drowning just like Javert, freezing in this ice cold water, drifting not swimming, even if he might believe to swim.

"What are you doing?" Javert tried to shout, but the water filled his mouth and he couldn´t speak.

Valjean´s gaze turned heated, determined one last time. And he looked around, for something, anything to grab. They were in the middle of the river, what could he possibly hope to find? There simply was nothing to grab anywhere.

But then he reached out a hand, and their movement stopped, with a violent jerk, water washing over them as if the river was not willing to let go of its prey that easily. Javert resurfaced, half frozen dead already, and saw the branch reaching into the water, from a fallen tree. Valjean´s white hand was clinging to it, desperately, while he dragged him, Javert, closer, up to the branch. Somehow Javert managed it to grab the wood, fighting against the violence of the water. And just as he´d gotten hold of it, Valjean passed out, losing the battle against this exertion after all. His hand lost the branch.

Javert took him, held him, taking over the part of saving them both now. Exchange of the watch in its purest form. What choice did he have anyway? Valjean had once again forced him into this exchange of lives. His life for Javert´s. Javert couldn´t let go. Not now. Not ever.

He had no idea how he managed it back to land. His mind was numb, just like his body, the breath he exclaimed was hell white and the sand beneath his hands ice cold. His skin was numb, his fingers and joints stiff. And if it had been only himself, he would have dropped dead right here and now. By all means, any human being that went through this should have died.

But the human being lying next to him, was not dead. He was pale like a dead fish, his breathing so shallow it was barely there. And his skin was cold to the touch, just like Javert´s. But the heartbeat was still there, just underneath.

What were you thinking? Why on earth did you have to do this? Javert felt the forehead of the man that had been the death of him, and he felt a tiny bit of body warmth. Fading soon, if he would stay here.

He couldn´t allow this. He couldn´t let this happen. He hadn´t allowed him to die either.

* * *

><p><strong>We´re almost there. As always, share your thoughts with me, all right?<strong>


End file.
